As soon as I stepped out of the airport, the humidity grabbed my hair in its fists and wrapped itself around my face.
I was up late last night on the phone, gossiping with the bride to be, reminiscing and giggling and talking too fast. I left for the airport at 3:30, ghosting through the streets of my city, winking at the lights that were on.
My mother has done huge renovations on her house recently. I realized the other day that a large part of the reason I've been so unsettled about making this trip is that it's the first time I've stayed overnight in this house since the morning I only barely made it out with my life. Some of you know bits of that story and some of you know none of it, but the bare facts are that my ex stepfather was not a very nice man and one night finally nearly made good on what he'd been promising to do for years. Since good and dead wasn't what I wanted to be at seventeen I ran, and I haven't stopped running since.
I've been a little worried about how I'd react to being here in the dark. And it's been a little hard, a little more than hard. But the house is so completely changed that it's almost not the same place where so much that was bad happened. Being in this town is always a little bit like watching a movie of myself undergoing surgery, but I think I might be able to avoid any extra nightmares.
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