My classmates had dedicated years to making me feel as though I ought to be deeply embarrassed of my origins and the life I came from, but they were entirely wrong.
The moment we finally pulled back into the familiar church lot, Dad shut off the engine and turned to me, asking, “Ready to go home, sweetheart?”.
I offered him a contented smile and answered, “Always, Dad… always”.
While some people spend the entirety of their lives desperately searching for the exact place they belong, I knew I was incredibly lucky. My place of belonging had found me first.
