I pack the old suitcase with all the things that are valuable to me: photos of my son, my old coin collection, the teddy bear my mother gave me when I was five. I leave the cards and letters.

I take one last look around the small house that has never been home and I wonder where the years have gone.

I step outside one more time and stand next to the lilac bushes that are just now beginning to grow and bloom. I watch the horses graze and I resolve not to let these things keep me a prisoner anymore.

Back inside, I add one last thing to my old dilapidated suitcase.

My freedom.