Running Away to Home–A Different Kind of Travel

When I was six years old, my parents committed the heinous sin of telling me “No.” I was convince they no longer loved me and perhaps never had. I wept and wailed at the cruel fate that had placed me in a family that treated a child so cruelly. They’d told my older sister “No” on occasion, but that was okay because she deserved it. I suspect they’d told me “No” before as well. I simply couldn’t recall those occasions.

I eventually ran out of tears and exhausted the more violent shows of tempe...