"Home is Where the Heart is" | Teen Ink

"Home is Where the Heart is"

August 16, 2014
By pprudhon GOLD, San Jose, California
pprudhon GOLD, San Jose, California
10 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.&quot;<br /> -JK Rowling (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer&#039;s Stone)


As the raindrops fall harder and harder, I realize I can no longer tell if my face is wet from tears or from the downpour. I search around, desperately looking for a street sign, a familiar face, anything to tell me where I am. Everything is a blur and the whole world seems to be tilted. I may fall right off the edge.
Would anybody even notice?
Would anybody even care?
I’m standing in a crowd of people. They’re all in a rush to get back to their busy lives. I’ve stopped walking so they flood around me, leaving a bubble of space, like I’m a rock in a stream. To them, I’m a minor inconvenience, but that’s all.
The buildings loom over me. Their shadows drowning and their bodies confining me. Everywhere I turn, there’s a skyscraper blocking my way. There’s no where I can go.
I would give anything to go home right now, but I don’t even know where home is.
If you have no one left to call family, do you really have a home?
If there’s nobody to miss you, do you even really matter?
As these thoughts run laps through my mind, my head is pounding. I fall to my knees. I can’t breathe.
I hear voices around me, but all I can make out is a buzzing sound. I see a hand on my shoulder, but I’m too numb to feel it.
My fist’s clenched so tight that my knuckles are white and my fingernails are digging into my palm.

I can’t feel anything.

“Are you okay?”

I hear a woman speaking, but it’s like we’re underwater. I open my mouth to respond but my throat constricts and all I can make is a small squeak.

Her brown eyes are wide with concern and her dark hair is soaked in the rain. She has a small child standing behind her, his hand on the edge of her coat. He’s holding onto her like she’s the only thing in the world that can keep him anchored.

He reminds me of a little girl with blond ringlets---
“Hey, it’s going to be alright. Is there someone I can call for you?”
Her voice is so gentle, so caring. It reminds me so much of what I’ve lost that I choke a little on my own tears.
“No---no one,” I manage to spit out. My arms are pulling my knees to my chest now. My groceries are scattered on the pavement.

“Look, you really should move off of the sidewalk, someone might step on you. Let me help you.”
She gently puts her hand on my arm, detaching it from my leg, before pulling me to my feet. I haven’t eaten in days and I can barely keep my balance. She places my arm across her shoulders and leads me across the way to a little coffee shop. There’s a couch inside and she sets me down.
My clothes are dripping and I’m shivering from the cold.

“Is there something I can do to help you?” the woman asks.
The child is eying the glass case with all the pastries inside. He’s so innocent, so trusting. I would give anything to be like that again.

But it’s too late now.
Innocence is something that was stolen from me a lifetime ago.

“I don’t---I don’t think so---”

Between my tears and my chattering teeth, I struggle to speak.

I want to thank this kind woman for her concern. I want to tell her to take her little boy home, and to remind him everyday that she loves him. I want to tell her that it’s too late for me, but not for him.

All I say is, “Please, go.”
I see a flash of hurt in her eyes. She probably thinks that I’m an ungrateful brat. I wouldn’t blame her.
“If I leave,” she starts, “will you be able to get home okay?”
My breath catches in my throat and the tears start streaming down my cheeks again.
“Yeah,” I mutter. My hands are shaking in my lap and I can’t make eye contact with her.

She nods slowly and stands up.
“It’s going to get better,” she whispers. “I promise.”
Then, she grabs her child by the hand and leads him out of the coffee shop. Right before she goes out the door, she looks at me one last time. It’s the kind of look to give to a stranger that you’re concerned for.
I begin to sob again.
I thought that family was forever.
That nothing could change that.
I went to see the house yesterday.
I left without a word.
Not a single word.
They were all I had.
Now the only time I’ll get to see them in photographs.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t go home, but I can’t stay here.
I stand up, slowly and shakily, and walk out the door. I have no where to go so I just wander over to the park.
There’s a tree there, where I used to take her to play when she was little. I sit under it, too tired to sleep and too sad to cry any more. I’ll just sit here for a while. Maybe tomorrow it’ll be better. Maybe not. Maybe there will be good news tomorrow. Maybe not.

I hope that woman tells her little boy how much she loves him. I hope she makes absolutely sure he knows.

Because you never know when it’s too late to ask.


The author's comments:
I wrote this because of the many requests for a sequel to my earlier story, "A Single Stuffed Giraffe". I would like to dedicate it to my family, I don't know what I would do without them.

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This article has 7 comments.


on Aug. 21 2014 at 9:36 pm
Creative-Writer BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
4 articles 0 photos 37 comments

Favorite Quote:
We know what we are, but know not what we may be. -William Shakespeare

when i first started reading, i couldnt stop. good job on your syntax there were a few mistakes, but nothing you cant fix.  i liked this a lot.

on Aug. 21 2014 at 4:26 am
Creative-Writer BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
4 articles 0 photos 37 comments

Favorite Quote:
We know what we are, but know not what we may be. -William Shakespeare

OMG!! when i read the first couple sentences, i couldnt stop reading it.  i noticed a few mistakes, but nothing major.  you did a really good job.

on Aug. 20 2014 at 12:23 pm
Kestrel135 PLATINUM, Waterford, Connecticut
43 articles 0 photos 256 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Respect existence or expect resistance&quot;

This had me hooked immediately. Your writing was fluent and beautiful to read, while the story itself was emotionally complex in a touching, resounding way. Really, I'm having trouble finding a single issue for this. There could be a little more description, but it also makes sense for there to be only a little since the story is about what the character is feeling on the inside - not the outside world. The mother character - as kingofwriters mentioned - could have had a little more depth, though I still felt mostly satisfied with her character as is. I feel that if you wanted to have room for more character growth and to add an extra dimension for the mother character, expanding this might be a good avenue. Other than that, this story is utterly perfect. It was a great read, and definitely keep writing!

on Aug. 19 2014 at 7:20 pm
kingofwriters BRONZE, DeWitt, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 196 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Books are a uniquely portable magic.&quot; - Stephen King<br /> <br /> I love books, and I love technology, but I don&#039;t want to see the latter overwhelm the former. I just think books are meant to be pages you turn, not screens you scroll through.

You're welcome!

pprudhon GOLD said...
on Aug. 19 2014 at 5:42 pm
pprudhon GOLD, San Jose, California
10 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.&quot;<br /> -JK Rowling (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer&#039;s Stone)

First of all, thank you so much for your comment and your feedback.  It really means a lot to me and I will definitely keep what you said in mind as I write my next stories.  I just wanted to mention that as far as what the character learned goes, I didn't incorporate that as much because I felt that I adressed it well in the first story.  I probably should have given him/her another moral and I will for sure think about that when I write again.  Once again, thank you so much!

on Aug. 19 2014 at 9:22 am
kingofwriters BRONZE, DeWitt, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 196 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Books are a uniquely portable magic.&quot; - Stephen King<br /> <br /> I love books, and I love technology, but I don&#039;t want to see the latter overwhelm the former. I just think books are meant to be pages you turn, not screens you scroll through.

This is really, REALLY good! It's well-written, emotional, and I had a very deep understanding of the girl who has lost so much over the years. There are a few things I'd like to point out, however: I feel like the sadness in this story has a lot of potential to overwhelm the reader, and while it's good to have stories that are emotional, it is usually very easy to make them too emotional. I'm not saying this story is; I'm just saying it might be for some readers. Also, I think the mother and her child paled in comparison to the central character in terms of how real and effective they were. Just my opinion, but I feel like the mother needed more depth, and it's really easy to add depth using really simple techniques. Say the mother puts her hand on the main character's shoulder and says, "I know what you're going through... It's what Sarah went through." Who's Sarah? I don't have a clue. But what matters is the mother knows and that instantly gives her so much more character depth than she had before. Now on to my last pet peeve: the main character doesn't learn anything. This is very strictly my opinion, but when you look at it, this is really just a story about the protagonist's enduring misery. I think it should be about something more than that; something more resonant. All those things aside, however, this story was still very resonant, and I liked it a lot. Keep it up! :)

pprudhon GOLD said...
on Aug. 18 2014 at 7:37 pm
pprudhon GOLD, San Jose, California
10 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.&quot;<br /> -JK Rowling (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer&#039;s Stone)

I just wanted to apologize about the formatting.  I had it set up for a space between each paragraph but it was messed up a little bit.