Coming Home

Yesterday I drove home from work exhausted as it had been one of those very long days. While driving in heavy rush hour traffic, I could only think about how badly I wanted to be home – how I wanted the peace and quiet, some downtime to unwind and relax, an opportunity to do nothing and maybe some non-work related conversation with my family.

Although not a new revelation, I thought about how fortunate I am that I can come home to a peaceful setting. I didn’t have to drive home anticipating the stress, danger and abuse that might await me in my own home.

It just makes me so angry sometimes that there are so many women in my own community that have to dread going home. The weight of their burden seems too much to bear; I doubt I could do it. Home is supposed to be our sanctuary. For me the fact the simple fact that not every home is a safe home, a home without fear, is what makes me get up the morning after a bad day and drive back to work. If I can only make a difference, somehow, the stress of work becomes worth it.

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