Tomorrow, The Baby and The Boy and I go home.

When asked, The Baby shall say that she wants to go to WallyWorld, The Boy shall say to Graceland, and I.. and I.. to Ryans.

I never knew how much it meant to me to go home.

As long as I am silent, I am fine. The minute that I must talk, I weep : tell the kids it’s the excema on my eyes.

I cannot “handle” telephones right now, but The Father tells me that Dad has called. Come on over, he says.

Filled with easy- pity, I chant “I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh , how I want to go home”

And who knows, stranger things have happened