Today was the day that I would pack my bags and leave the home of my childhood. It was a sad day as well as a happy one. I was that sure that Papa wouldn't be happy today, and I wasn't expecting him to be. I shrugged on my red Sunday dress and grabbed up my hunk of a suitcase. I walked out into the yard and before I stepped onto the road, like Lot's wife in Sodom and Gomorrah, I looked back to see Papa just sitting there, looking off over the horizon. It pained me to see him like this, because I'm sure his pain was equal to mine, if not greater. Across the yard I yelled, "I'll come back soon, Papa! I love you!" He acted as if he hadn't heard me, although I know he did.
Days, weeks, and months passed, almost a year, before I finally returned to my home. I walked down into the little valley behind our house to see a fresh grave and a gravestone. Tears automatically welled up in my eyes and flowed down my face as I whispered, "I'm home, Papa. I love you." (2 years and 149 days ago)