Ever dream of going home?

 It is often thought of in movies and books.

The idea of going home.

Home means safety, surety, self.

We all grow up in a home of some type.

Even the back of a car.

Not that most of us want to relive that experience.

But the idea of staying together when things got tough.

Is also a type of home.

As were all those men who came home from World War two.

They went not knowing what they would find.

Their homes were destroyed in some cases.

In other cases, their children had been given up to others.

On both side, much of Germany had to be rebuilt.

While Americans went home to an imaginary world.

All those fifty style movies were dreams of what they thought home felt like.

In some cases, children are torn apart by circumstances.

They want to be together but can't get the adults to cooperate.

Some spend years in juvenile or foster care wondering when.

And then it happens, life goes on.

The children are now grown and sometimes find their way back.

Sometimes what they go back to is not what they remember.

People change and parents grow old.

Attempting to recreate a stolen childhood is not a crime.

But things go wrong when life is not understanding.

Blame is often the end result.

The parents were supposed to be waiting for them to get through the system.

The children were supposed to remember who not to talk to or there would be trouble.

And then there were the grandparents who sacrificed everything.

They never did get their lives but worked for others.

They lost everything due to the cruelty of others.

Spoiled rotten teenagers who want to lie.

Demi for instance still insists she is the real daughter of the family.

There were two identical ones and one died and is now lost to us.

She is not the only one who can't understand, identical.

Then there are all the baby bastards.

Born to others who found it too easy to take advantage of foolish old woman.

Where are they now?

Living in luxury.

Waiting for the next reveal of what to steal next.

Never have they ever done anything at all for anyone else.

Angela for instance should have been shot the day she was born.

She is that ugly, that her real mother whom she looks like refuses to acknowledge her.

Or the list goes on and on of the more than two hundred who showed up at my parents.

They did everything they could to destroy them and then killed them off.

But forgot nothing, they even took the houses.

Home often means houses.

Those very houses I remember dreaming about.

Willing myself to survive to get home to are now gone.

Living outside the normal because of others.

Just get through, find a way home and they will be there waiting.

Someone will have the key because the house is not abandoned.

But no, they are gone, all of them.

Not even one Christian woman held back her hand from taking that last dream.

Of finding one's way back.

They had thought I would not remember.

I would never recall where they were.

Or whom I was to myself or others.

They keep saying I have amnesia.

But I now more than they do.

I know they are liars and more than crooks.

The families who raised them should be shot in their beds.

Thier nice warm beds.

Because they stoled the lives of children in order to destroy the parents.

Then they went on without ever thinking it would come back to them.

There is no love in any of the children, not even Ashley understands.

It is all of them together that show the cruelty of life and the system.

The law says they will take care of you and yours.

Instead, they have been ignoring the real victims.

Meanwhile, others have been getting even with them with lawsuits.

If only they had minded their business.

If only they had done what they should.

They would not now be facing prisons themselves.

I could list the many villains of children who just don't get it.

But it is a waste of time.

Just shoot them all, since they have all had a shot at me and mine.

Dreaming of home.

That special place that a Cardinale or a Santa Croce had never been allowed to step.

A place in the memory that was real once.

It should not have been stolen.

There is no way of replacing those times.

And the children never made it to the Thanksgiving table.

Sadly, there were too many of the others.

And not enough of us.

No one can understand a child's desire to dream of going home.

They give a lot of time to a man in prison wanting to see his parents again.

But don't consider those who have suffered have a right.

To see those demons be corrected and forced to leave us alone.

No more stalking, nor harassing.

No more crying over their wants which is everything of yours.

just once, mom will wake up and wants us to be sitting there.

Dad always wondered why he could not come home.

I don't know if he ever got the message, it was her.

She had not wanted her father to come home from that war.

He was there when she was little and then gone.

He did not come for her when she called.

And then she had to live with others.

She never forgot and forgave.

Instead, she kept reliving her hurts through her own.

Sadly, she died without ever being satisfied.

Now it is a time to go home.

The call has come.

Have the others heard it?

Probably not.

They stopped listening to a long time ago.

Besides there is no home now that the rotten bitches took in their minds to take those as well.

There is justice someday.

Even if it is on their death day.

Because they won't have a resurrection.

After all, one of most romantic songs.

Is about going home but is actually about dying.

And never reaching the real home but the grave.

Hopefully, there are a few more decades in me.

Just to watch those wicked people receive their just deserts.

Death for having refused the rights of others to live and breathe in freedom.