Two days after the voicemail, I was on a flight heading back home.
Was it even that then? Home, I mean.
Don't people say a home is a place where we feel safe. A place where we are free to be ourselves and yet be showered with love and acceptance.
And yet, Wellington Estate, the place I grew up in didn't feel like that. Even at the present, I'm afraid, but it still doesn't feel safe, neither am I showered with love and care.
Don't get it twisted, I know what to qualify the feelings I get from my parents, and love and care weren't in the box. It was more like pity, manipulation and sorrow.
I get that no one is perfect, but there are parents whose love for their child surpasses perfection. And my friends, Aaron and Chad had these parents, or at least one out of the two showed the level of love I can only wish for with my parents.
