Heather Martin Coburn

I can't imagine the emptiness one would feel when driving down Bouziden or any of the other tornado-stricken streets.  The homes that were once standing weren't just homes, but symbols of love and laughter that were shared between family and friends.  Some were places a person could go to feel acceptance and comfort.  Other homes brought companionship or peace.  800 was one of those homes that made you feel like it was your own home.  It wasn't just the home itself, but the family that lived in it.  That structure absorbed so much of the affection felt, that the moment you walked in, you could breathe in love and understanding.  There was always wonderful smells of Mom Martinez's cooking.  Something about moms and their food... wow!  :-)  I also remember laying in Steph's room and admiring the view to the backyard.  From there we could see our school.  Our junior high, the place where we would meet and become forever friends.  800 also has a special sentiment for me.  It would be the place where I would meet my future husband.  As clique' as it sounds, this is the honest to goodness truth, this was the spot where Harold and I would see each other for the first time and think, "Wow, I've got to meet this person!"  What thrilled me is that 800 was a place I was able to share with my girls.  We were there for baby showers on a couple of occasions.  My girls loved both visits nearly as much as I loved them! 

 I'll miss having the chance to be there again, but the most important thing is that 800 offered protection.  All the love and strength it had was poured into this protective barrier to keep Mom safe.  I'm praying for a new home for Mom.  One that can make her feel welcome, safe, and loved.  No other will be as special as 800, but hopefully it'll be pretty damn close!!