I was born on a Friday morning, and I recently returned to the house where I was born on a Friday, almost 30 years later, a typical Friday’s child. The house was a moment froze in time, as if nothing had changed since I walked out the front door at the tender age of 8. I still remember the dimly lit hallway leading upstairs, the flocked red wallpaper, and the salt and pepper carpeting. Nothing had changed in all these years I spent away, stepping out the front door at age 8 as a small child, raised on promises. I made my way through life, living, growing, and thriving, only…