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Volume 5, Number 2 - Spring 2007
Writing the Path that Leads
to Home
by Andee Hochman
After we read Rosario Morales’ story, The Day It Happened,” about a young woman who gains the courage to leave her abusive husband, I asked women at Interim House, a residential substance abuse recovery program, to write their own stories bearing that title.
For Holly, “it” was the day she, too, left her abusive boyfriend. Linda wrote about the start of her sobriety; Sandra surprised us with a tender piece about losing her virginity and Michelle described the day she came to Interim House.
Their stories did what stories do: bear witness to pain, sweetness and struggle. They were responses to one type of writing prompt I used often at Interim House: Tell me what happened to you.
But the stories we read didn’t only witness and chronicle. Tell me what happened, I asked. And now, what next? That was the other type of prompt, a nudge to look forward and imagine, through words, what might be.
After reading Milly Jafta’s “The Home-Coming,” I asked the women to write about their own hoped-for homecomings. Jeni longed to tell her children, “Mommy’s home.” Another imagined cruising into the neighborhood in a silver Rolls Royce. Starlene just wanted to lie in her own bed and look at the ceiling.
Their stories did what stories do: carry us from this reality to a different one, lay down possibilities like golden bricks in the road. For a moment, we could all see the path, pointing in a hundred directions, pointing home.
After reading “The Home-Coming” by Milly Jafta
What I’m looking forward to the most is to hug my children and be able to say, “Mommy’s home,” and really mean, Mommy’s home.
I understand my actions will speak much louder than my words, but with dedication and hard work, and the chance to do so, I know I can earn their trust, their respect and their hand to guide me and keep me going in the right direction… Jeni Simpson
After reading “Beauty: When the Other Dancer Is the Self” by Alice Walker
I used to be blind to the fact that God really loved me, and that I’m special to Him. I didn’t realize that all the years of coming out on top—of not getting killed when I very well could have, or not getting beat to a pulp along with the person who got beat up beside me, of not getting AIDS along with my friend who was doing the very same things I was doing with some of the same people—was God’s hand on my life and His protection throughout my life. Tanya L. Tranks
I used to be blind to relationships. I wanted so much to be loved by the opposite sex that I could not see what was really happening. I was blind to things that they were doing to hurt me because they gave me a little attention.
They used me and abused me, but I thought they loved me. Clarissa Smith
I am a survivor, Holly
Elizabeth Janiszewski…
Every day I am a sky blue on a bright sunny day
I feel like I am a flipping dolphin who loves to play
…On Sundays I am a hot fudge sundae melting down your mouth
When I want to be I am a comfortable sweat outfit relaxing by a river
I am a calm ocean
right before the storm. Holly Janiszewski