Going Home
They say you can never go home again, well, I was going home. After three years of being out on my own I was returning to the town where I was born and the place I had been raised. The neighborhood looked just the same as it did the day I left, nothing much had changed. I knew home would be different though, now with Mom gone. It's strange, but on the Interstate I had driven above the speed limit to get here faster, I felt some need that I just couldn't explain, but now that I was within a...