This is where I come from

This is where I come from.

Vermont. The Country.

Of simple means. A roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.

But not much else.

A wood-burning stove.

An annual trip to the beach.

Friends who saved me but never knew it.

Big brother.

Surviving.

Terror and Dysfunction [not pictured].

Trauma and loss.

This is not your bedtime story.

Bloated faces, soaked in toxicity.

Is that you, Mom?

Yes, yes it was.

Until she Wasn’t.

10-3-2001.

The day you left us.

The day I changed.

Forever.

17 years later.

And it feels like yesterday.

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