Through A Glass Darkly
[…]sneakers and sticky fingers were exchanged for bubble baths and storybooks, we all got together and prayed for us and for Daddy. And then each of the girls would kiss goodnight the picture of their uniformed dad. So many nights I fell exhausted into bed. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep for want of a partner to help me raise these little ones. I refused to entertain the thought of his not coming back. There was always that chance, but I prayed for the strength for each day, and each day brought enough to be concerned about. I did get […]