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“You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.”
My daughter’s fourteenth birthday is coming up in one month.
Month - Day - Birthday - Book - Mother
Also in one month, one day before her birthday, the book I wrote about learning how to love and forgive my alcoholic mother releases. The book opens with me at age fourteen.
The grace is almost too much.
Daughter - Childhood
My daughter and I couldn’t have had a more different childhood.
When I was fourteen years old, I discovered my mom was an alcoholic. And not only did I discover this, I decided in my earnest innocence, that I would confront her about it. Then, just like on the talk show I’d seen where an intervention turned to hugs and help and joy, I thought my mom would realize her addiction and the pain she caused and that there would be hugs and help and joy.
But it didn’t turn out like that.
When I approached my mom to have the intervention, she was on the screened-in porch, a cigarette between her fingers, drink in her hand.
Words - Something
I stammered out the words, “I have to talk to you about something.”
She inhaled deep and flicked the ashes. Her dirty blonde hair was parted down the middle, and thin wisps scraggled down past her shoulders. She was a thick woman, pretty, with an inch-long indent on her forehead from when her dad had kicked her into the edge of a table. Her skin was tan and dotted, and she had a slight gap between her two front teeth. I missed hugging her. The last time I had tried to hug her she had pushed me away.
Heat - Neck - Head
Heat crawled up my neck and into my head. I smiled because I was nervous. “I think . . ....
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