Earlier this evening I remembered making a wish during my previous marriage. I decided that a home like that was Hell…

So, late one evening during my early twenties—following a rather brutal beating—I sat down on my couch, stared at the wall, and said aloud: If I ever escape this alive, I wish to wander with my children forever without having to stay in any one place for too long. I have no idea now why I wished for that. I must have thought that wandering would keep us from ever becoming prisoners again.

I finally escaped, and that wish came true.

Here I am free from that catastrophe. Married again…to someone who I love very deeply…still wandering…

But trying to be together—trying to find common ground—home. I am here, he is there. My son and I were both in school here, and he had to go to work there, so, we wander separately as one. It does not make sense sometimes. I almost feel as if I have now become a prisoner of that wish—as if it is a penalty.

Surely it is not.

What is life trying to tell me?

Be careful what you wish for.