We live in a pile of hay in an alley way in when you were only 3 years old. It's nice out and the gravel hurts your bare feet. The rocks poke you but go anyway. It takes you a while to get there because your legs are smaller. You're so young that you have no sense that running barefoot down an alley is probably not a good idea, but you do it anyway. You just want to get there. You could spend days there and sometimes you did. Months, years even. And it always made you happy. It was your home as much as theirs, you were family. And when you finally had to leave, you would wave goodbye your dear friends and return to the world........no different than when you had left it moments ago.
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