The Meaning of Love: A Real Christmas Story

The year was 1972. I was fourteen years old and had never experienced real love from another human being. What happened on this Christmas was to change my life. Up until then I had been raised in absolute and total insanity. My mother had become a full-fledged skid row alcoholic, her home a piece of cardboard in Anchorage, Alaska. My father, though not an alcoholic, was a cold and distant man, prone to physical abuse. I had never heard the words "I love you" from him, and other signs of affection were nonexistent. My parents were divorced. In the early winter of 1972, my mother had a spiritual awakening and managed to put down the bottle. While in a recovery facility, she met a man named John. Because of this man I learned the meaning of love.