This is not my home. - Utah.Politico.Hub
Come home, we're told. If this toxicity is what home is, then it’s not my home. How can I look my children in the eye and tell them it's a safe place for them? My sons in wheelchairs, my Hispanic child, my daughters....How can I tell them principles matter until it's "our team" that doesn't have any? I still have friends in that home. Some don't see the destruction. Some see it and hope the home can be rebuilt. And maybe it can, on truly solid foundations. Or maybe Hurricane Donald was one storm too many and the rebuilding will be in a new location, with new builders, new footings, new walls and a welcoming family. For me, even a tent – a big one, of course – would be better than living in the shattered, unwelcoming -and even dangerous - remains of a once beautiful home.
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