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It was a long journey. One riddled with dangers, passion, love, confusion, and understanding. A journey of discovery but never clear as to the reason. The reason for the pain, the hate, the judgments passed along by others. There were moments, days, weeks even of bliss. There were times of happiness, and optimism. Though they did not out weigh the pessimism and racism that clouded each sunny day, they were enough to keep going, to keep pushing through. The highs helped endure the lows. The journey ended gently, though it wasn’t for everyone. The crime in the journey often robbed others of their peaceful end.

But now, after such a long wait, such a long time of endurance, I come home. The way was narrow, hazardous, and harder than anything I could have made up on my own. I reflect on my time as I climb the seemingly never ending stairs home. I remember the times when I thought I couldn’t go on. I remember the times when I wished for it all to end. But most of all I remember the times that were a glimpse of the home I climb toward now.

The air grows light, but my breathing remains easily executed. The light brightens, but my eyes remain open and unaffected. The ground beneath my feet are hard but they feel lighter than air. My pain is no longer present and my worries have evaporated with each step I take. Before long, I arrive at an arched door way. Though there doesn’t seem to have anything on the other side, my faith tells me to walk through. My heart swells with a warmth pulling me through. Home is just beyond that door. I am sure of it. Tears burn in my eyes, but sadness is so far away from me now. I am filled with such elation that nothing else could come close to pulling me down. My feet carry me forward. They take me home.

Photo: unknown origin.

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