He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

change from the grey concrete of the city to the golden hues of the countryside.

I didn’t feel lost. Not anymore. We were going somewhere we’d be seen. Somewhere we’d belong.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t following my parents. I was choosing. And that choice, though terrifying, felt like coming home.

The bus pulled into the tiny station in Holton,continue reading …