Tuesday, August 08, 2006

If only it worked like that.

With the program at Pendle Hill over and its participants scattered to several continents, I'm left marvelling at the fact that I can go home. Ever since I was eleven and realized not everyone's home was as happy as mine, I've been looking at friends and thinking their lives would be smoother if they could just get out of their toxic family environments and live with my family for a month or two. Now even after we're all old enough to move out, I'm looking at the friends I've made whose whose lives are still restricted by what their parents' reactions would be if they led the lives they want to. Some decide to restrict their lives so they can maintain contact - others can't go home at all because it's too poisonous there.

I want to say to them all, "Come be in my family instead. We're not perfect and there's an ugly new rug in the hall, but we'll love you. I'll make you a cake. My family won't push you away if you marry a woman or move to San Fransisco or shave your head. Come home."

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