"The practice of not harming others can be divided into two:
first, to refrain from harming others;
and second, to benefit them and work for their welfare."
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I always talk about things happening for a reason,
the universe having its plan for you,
divine intervention.
It's always been a thing that I said and believed,
but never delved into and researched.
Today Marlo and I were out and about, adventuring the town with the windows down and spending a little time making friends and sharing the love. On our way home I had plans to go to a state park or two, really get to explore the world on my day off. My mind was thinking about conversations from yesterday, possibilities of tomorrow, and for no reason at all I slammed on my brakes and took a left turn.
I knew exactly where I was, but haven't thought about this place in years and years. I pulled into my old home, my first home. Now, I have been blessed to have only moved once in my life and to always have been near family and felt a sense of home and safety. Marlo and I got out of the car at the restriction barriers, heading into my old neighborhood and into memory lane.
I've read lots of books, lots of documentaries, and I've read of pain and struggles of war. But today I walked into my neighborhood and I saw what true abandonment look like. The neighborhood was owned by the state, and still is owned by the state. Yet, every window is shattered and smashed in. Every door is boarded up. My old home has a tree in its garage now. The hydrangea bushes in my backyard have now become trees.
My childhood has been slowly decaying over the years, without notice from anyone. My entire neighborhood is boarded up, forgotten, abandoned and it's hard to find the words to explain what seeing that is like. It got me thinking, most people are lucky that they can go visit their old home and their childhood and see other people in it. Filling that same home with laughter and happiness and memories.
Now, I'm not trying to wallow in self-pity or give myself a sad moment. I can't even imagine those whose homes have been ruined by war, the refugees we don't have a home, and the veterans who come home to nothing. I will never sit here and be the one to say "woe is me".
But it makes you think, of all the homes that are abandoned and neighborhoods that are forgotten… Why can't we do something? Why can't we fix them up? Why can't we turn them into homes for our soldiers who come home heroes, but homeless. Why can't we fix them up and give them to women shelters and orphanages, give them something true, safe, a home where they see what life can really be like outside of those situations.
Why can't we do more?
