I kept one eye on the landscape and its lovely house as I leaned back, tossed the no-doubt gracious cab driver some money from my pocket, and sent him on his way with the thought-provoking, “Yo, Holmes! Smell ya later!” He drove off, his tires kicking barely-felt gravel onto my legs as I began to realize where I was.

I was here; this is where my mother wanted me to go. I wasn’t here to hide.

I wasn’t here to be out of the way.

I was here because I belonged; I could feel it in my veins. With confident strides I approached the front door (a port way that was easily three times my size) and knocked sharply with my fist.

I wanted the entire family inside to know that their prince was here.

I was now and forever… the Prince of Bel-Air.