Rich in the Things That Matter

AS a tiny girl I adored my father. He was perhaps the nicest man I ever met. Charming, handsome, kind and thoughtful. Home was a happy, secure place until I was seven years of age; then I recall things changed. My dad whom I now know was an alcoholic, gradually slipped down hill, until in desperation, Mum had to let him go when I was about eleven. I missed him unbearably, but in silence! I did not make friends easily when I married. I wanted, above all, the things for my children that I had lost. Security, a nice home, a united family life.