There is a shock that comes so quickly and strikes so deep that the blow is internalized even before then skin feels it. The strike must first reach … - Maya Angelou

Thomas Wolfe warned in the title of America’s great novel that ‘You Can’t Go Home Again.’ I enjoyed the book but I never agreed with the title. I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and dragons of home under one’s skin, at the extreme corners of one’s eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.

Home is that youthful region where a child is the only real living inhabitant. Parents, siblings, and neighbors, are mysterious apparitions, who come, go, and do strange unfathomable things in and around the child, the region’s only enfranchised citizen.
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We may act sophisticated and worldly but I believe we feel safest when we go inside ourselves and find home, a place where we belong and maybe the only place we really do.

All great artists draw from the same resource: the human heart, which tells us all that we are more alike than we are unalike.

I went further than forgiving the clerk, I accepted her as a fellow victim of the same puppeteer.