Sitting on bus 96 taking a tour down route 202 where I grew up. I'm flooded with memories fond and awful. The yard I played in as a child and the hotel I was held captive and watched my friend die both pass my tinted window in the same 30 seconds. I'm headed back into lansdale to shop to bide time and pay a visit to my therapist. I'll spend a good hour or two in a dunkin donuts waiting for my appointment while sipping on flavor filled espresso drinks. And I'll remember last summer when I spent all my time in the glenside dunkin donuts charging my phone because the house I lived in had no electricity. I was scrawny and covered in bug bites. Hungry and craving nicotine every day of that relentless summer. Wifi was my only chance at communication because even the government wouldn't turn a phone on for me. I had lost my children to foster care and there wasn't much else that mattered to me. I could not care for myself. I waited so long for my love to come back and make me real, to make me matter. I couldn't move forward without him. I needed his concern, his anger for the stregnth to escape that desperate plight. And then one day he was there and I knew my rescue was in sight. Although we fought day and night, we didn't abandon each other again. We haven't since then. Next week we'll be attending court as one solid unit fighting for our children. And I know even with all that has passed that we will win this year long battle and that one day soon, our kids will be back in our arms.