Fall always makes me think of home.  I have so many good memories of this season… bonfires, roasting marshmallows, the smell of hay and sweet-feed in the barn mingled in with the smell of fresh milk after milking our cow…cool mornings being up before sunrise and looking up at the stars while tending to the animals… long evenings filled with family and music outside with lots of food and laughter and noise.  These are the things I miss about my family…my old home.  When I think of those cool nights when I would sneak out of the house and go for a walk by moon-light and listen to the call of the whippoorwills, I can’t remember why I was so unhappy there.  It’s like these good memories crowd out all the bad ones and I feel stupid for being so miserable.  Then I think about all the abuse, all the pain, the feeling that I was unseen, the feeling that I was property meant to serve a purpose in my home… and I remember.  I remember how alone I always felt. I remember having to act like a pretty little happy robot just to survive.  I remember how no negative emotion was allowed to show in my home. I remember being treated like a servant and not a daughter.  I remember being screamed at and berated… I remember.  Looking back all the things I loved most about my child-hood had nothing to do with the people and everything to do with the season, the activities, the animals, the sky… and I am determined to recapture that in my adulthood.  I am determined to stop… to look around… to enjoy this beautiful world and to recapture my youth.