When you think of home, it conjures up warm images of family, safety, security and love. Some of us think back to our childhood’s, to happy times shared. Some of us will ponder on the homes we have now. But not everyone is lucky enough to have had a loving home . . .
Terry’s hands trembled as he penned his memoires. He recalled the beatings dished out for the slightest transgressions, the lumpy, uncomfortable beds and lack of blankets. He remembered tears shed at night in the long dormitory housing thirty boys, and Christmases where, if you were very lucky, you received an orange; also, the hand-me-down clothes which never fitted quite right, the rough towels and the smell of the awful soap.
Most of all, he remembered the lack of kindness, compassion and love.
As he gazed around his comfortable room, he shuddered at the memories of growing up in a children’s home.