Where I Belonged

Why did these people care about me? They only knew my first name, knew nothing else about me, yet all that seemed to matter is that I was there. I had never felt that before. Suddenly it seemed as if there was no outside world, and that all of the love and care humanly possible was in that room of fifteen people. As each person spoke I heard bits of myself in their stories. I really didn't think anybody could have been worse than me. But some had. As these people spoke, I looked at them. Somehow the stories they told didn't match the fresh, healthy people telling them. As they talked, tears would well up in my eyes, and I would feel a sympathetic yet encouraging hand touch my shoulder. It was becoming apparent about halfway through that this is where I belonged.