Page 173 - From the Outhouse 4 -21
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173 | P A T R I C I A   R A E   M E R R I T T   W H A T L E Y

            Like the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-32, I came to myself and set out to return to my father. I called and said, “Daddy, I am coming
            home.” His reply was, “You are surely welcome to do so. Our home place is being rented. Let me inform the renter. Give me about

            three to four weeks so my renter will have time to relocate.”


            Fortunately, I had this revelation during the summer, and I didn’t have to leave my teaching job in the middle of the year. I informed

            my part-time job at the miniature 7-Eleven service station that I was resigning. Briefly, that was a horrific experience because I worked

            the late shift at the service station from 5 PM to 11 PM or midnight when we closed – alone! I had to turn the lights off, read the gas
            meter, and count the final monies. This was during the horrible riots in Miami. “Scared” was not the word to describe this experience.

            Believe me, I was happy, super-happy, that I was leaving this job!


            Finally, the time came for us to move. Since I was low on cash, my friend Sara Simmons, Kamili’s godmother bought me four new

            tires to put on my second-hand car – a Chevette…not a Corvette – to make the four- to five-hour trip from South Miami to Sanford.
            We thanked the Pages for their hospitality and were on our way, early one Friday morning. It was late when we arrived in Orlando,

            and it wasn’t dark. I was still twenty-four miles from Sanford, so I decided to spend the night in a hotel and leave for Sanford early

            Saturday morning. By the 11 AM check-out time, We were refreshed, full from a good breakfast, and ready to face the challenges
            ahead, which were many.


            My father and stepmother greeted us with open arms and a very delicious lunch. You might say, “They killed the fatted calf.” We had

            a feast and celebrated as the parable was told by Jesus. I’d like to note here that it was time to come home. My thought was that we

            would stay in their home for a while. The house was a contemporary three-level, expertly decorated home. I assumed that the bottom
            level could be my and Kamili’s territory. The area certainly was equipped to house us. The bottom level had a bedroom, bathroom,

            laundry room, living room, and family den. The bottom floor even had a separate entrance, so we wouldn’t even have to interfere

            with my father and stepmother’s living quarters on the top two levels. How ideal for us. WRONG THINKING!
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