I’m not exactly sure there is a place or feeling I would take from my childhood. I was constantly uprooted, constantly moving. The small, fleeting moments of happiness were superimposed between misery that I don’t remember too much beyond fleeting good moments in a sea of bad. I guess part of me might wish for the hope I had of childhood. That one day these feelings of inadequacy and shame would be erased, and that I would be truly happy. For the most part, I consider myself content now, happy in that I have better control of my life than I did as a child, but I’ve lost that sense of hope that I will be truly, incandescently happy, and I have my happily ever after like a princess in some Disney movie.