I used to love to smell the bread baking at the Sara Lee Factory on my way home from school. It would fill my nostrils and lungs like air to a flat tire. As we would ride down Panthersville Road I would stick my head out the window of the bus and try not to get caught by the bus driver. Life was fairly simple on that short bus ride home; it was my safe haven almost. I was glad to be done with the humdrum life of school, but I was not quite ready to go home to the madhouse I called home. Then I didn’t know how to deal with my parents. I couldn’t deal with the constant conflict, the name calling. I wanted to be any place but there…That bus ride to my schoolmates was probably just that, a bus ride. It was more than that to me; I could mentally prepare myself on how I was going to survive the unwarranted turmoil that awaited me.
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