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.