"WHEN DID YOU FIRST THINK ABOUT GOING HOME?"
Was it when I was driving away from our home, with my possessions crammed in the old blue Dodge, en route to a motel 20 miles away? My sobbing wife could not see it, nor can you, but the pull homeward for a prodigal spouse becomes stronger with each trip we make to our vehicle, removing our possessions from the home where they should be. Nevertheless, like a determined swimmer, working against the tide, we push on.
Was it when I witnessed an accident on that same trip to the motel? Traffic was light on Stirling Road, and no one else had stopped, so I pulled over to render aid. Was it when the victim asked for someone to call his wife, and I realized that I would have no wife to call? Was it...