A sudden wave of melancholia hit me, as I remembered the hardships I went through in this very same place. Shalem might have been my hometown, but it never did welcome me for who I was and not for what I had been.
The sun was rising from the east, and the pastel hues of dusk were slowly being tinged with the bright yellow orange colors brought by the morning star.
I breathed in the fresh air, inhaling and exhaling deeply as my heart felt a wave of longing for what had been.
This was my hometown.
Before it died, this was where my heart belonged to.
Everything was fresh with flowers blooming and tiny sprouts growing here and there.
By the looks of the leaves on the trees and the smell in the air, I am guessing it is about the same season in which things suddenly went downhill for Elizabeth Ainsworth.
Spring time.
