I thought that returning home would give my mind some peace, but the combination of solitude and childhood memories only serve to stoke the flames. Too many regrets for a man of my years.
I try to keep busy, ignore my swirling thoughts. My daily routine has been simple, I wake and check the state of the farm, then head into town to see if I can find anything useful. I have bumped into a few people, all of whom seem nice enough. No locals, just militias trying to pick the local base clean for their little wars. Occasionally I hear gunfire in the town, but mostly in the surrounding hills. As long as I am not on the receiving end, it is a good day.
Whilst on one of my scavenging trips, someone came and took all the food I had stored in the house. I am happy to share, hospitality was a point of pride for my mother and I aim to keep that spirit alive, but being robbed still leaves me angry. I have begun trying to secure the house, a task that I fear will take a long time indeed.
They took an entire goat's worth of meat and a pile of apples I'd collected, wiping out my stockpile. Hopefully they needed it more than me.