Torn for Twenty Years
It took three trips to a "state farm" and untold anguish before she would surrender
I AWOKE one morning, ten years ago, to find myself on a hospital cot.
I tried to retrace my thoughts. I had been drinking the previous day. I had felt very lonely because my children, aged ten and three, had sent no valentines from the foster home into which they had been forcibly placed. The judge had said I was found guilty of breach of the peace. Therefore I had had to move out of my apartment very rapidly and with a great deal of informal assistance. I was told that I had to go away for a "few" months. (Judges can be cryptic at times.) I was led into a building which, at night,...
Login to read more
Not a subscriber? Click here to subscribe. -- W. G.