From the May 2017 magazine.

Simply surrender

The spiritual connection she desperately sought for years appeared when she found AA

I am missing great swaths of my childhood. The memories come back piecemeal: a smell here, a sight there, portions of a conversation. My imagination fills in the blanks, aided by make-believe and interesting stories told by others.

Many of the things I remember never really happened, at least not to me. I feel the ache of a sprain my sister got falling out of the bunkbed. I vividly recall witnessing my grandfather putting a dying bird out of his misery, even though it happened long before I was born. I remember the heartache of my father’s death—not the real one that happened in August of 2000 from chronic alcoholism, but the make-believe death of my Indian Chief father (played heroically by my sister Maggie) who perished in my arms following a brutal massacre by the white man. Memory is slippery. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s simply true.

-- Gwyneth N.

Saco, Maine, USA

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