From the June 2019 magazine.

Home sweet home

The meeting her dad once attended became the place that she could call home

We’d gone to a bar to watch my favorite band perform. Around midnight, after many drinks, I started getting the “spins,” so we left. I remember telling my husband that he didn’t need to hold me up as we walked to the car.

“I’m not one of those drunk chicks,” I said, laughing and feeling a combination of being a wild, fun “chick” and a pathetic drunk. I was sick before I even got home.

-- Teresa H.

Cranberry Township, Pennsylvania

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