Home sweet home
Imagine you’re the breadwinner of your family. Your children and spouse depend on you for their financial needs. That’s why you’re terrified when your boss unexpectedly fires you from your job, thrusting your family into a financial wreck. The house payments creep farther and farther into debt and it’s a wonder the government hasn’t taken your home from you. The children look on curiously.
Imagine you accept your credit card bill, only to find you’re expected to pay up thousands of dollars. Your heart stops and the paper shakes in your hands as you call up the credit company, attesting to the seemly obvious fact that your number was stolen and a thief spent all of the money that’s rightfully yours. The company does not see the problem and insistently demand the payments. The click of the phone on its receiver awakens a mode of panic from within you. You wonder if you can ever afford to eat again, let alone keep our house.
Imagine a tornado erupts from the horizon, steadily making its way toward your house. The winds as it hits are bone-shaking and the darkness of the basement you bunker into is unsettling, but nothing can compare to the nauseating fright you feel deep within your chest when you walk back upstairs, because an upstairs doesn’t exist. There’s nothing there. You fall to your knees in a barren wasteland sprinkled with debris.
Home sweet home.
-Bronwyn Sharpley
