The yard was a collection of mismatched garden furninture, old childrens’ toys, abandoned years ago, and undisturbed layers of snow. It was rarely visited, and when it was, it was only a teen couple looking for a quiet recluse or an aspiring artist looking for a bit of solace and quiet to work. This is were I came, everyday, for months. It became my haven to think and to simply escape the nightmare that had slowly become my life. I tried to think everything out but I simply couldn’t. So instead I would simply lie down underneath the big old oak in the yard and stare up through the leaves. It was simple, easy, and a way to spend a few minutes, hours, before I had to return home. I spent as much time as I could because ever since mom remarried, home was simply not home anymore.