Letter to Home..

Hello

Isn't it weird? After more than six months of not writing..

But I just want to say something. I don't know what will come out.. I'll just write them down.

I missed you guys badly on sunday, miss you guys still. But it's not so bad, you know? For which I'm glad. Can you imagine me teaching if I were in the same state as I was last year when I came back? hah.

Or maybe it's because some of you are coming over on thursday. Just two days more. A part of me can't wait, and a part of me dreads it.
Remember how I once said I'd never want any of you to come over? I'm so afraid all you'll see is the facade, the glitz and glamour of city lights, and forget the warmth and glow that comes from the fairy ones. Would you covert, and want to stay over?

Would you be able to see the pain behind the bright smile of the zen house? The one with the lap pool, a basement and two maids. The one with the gentle hostess, the calm and elegance of her clothes.. and the forbidden upstairs bedroom.

John grabbed her wrist; I paused.
"Did he hit you?"
"John..", and she gently attempts to pull away
He tolds tighter.
"Did he hit you again??" fiercer now, demanding and persistent.

All these years I've analysed her answering shrug in my mind. Rehearsed the scene over and over again. Was it resignation in her shrug? That, my son, I am a divorced woman. I take what comes.

And what love? What love does the city hold, and your home does not have? The city's lovers are vice, greed and ambition. Envy and strife are her constant companions. Self is the Order of the Day. Of the Month. Of the Year.

selfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfself

Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.




Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.