![]() We had come through those things the way anyone comes through anything: in order to survive. ![]() We had come through those things into a semblance of peace, his old age softening him, preventing such wild outbursts. A life ruled by my father’s addiction, unattended trauma from his own childhood, then Vietnam, and the indescribable terror he’d caused me as a child as he beat my mother in front of me, as he pushed me out of his path so he could get to her, and my back hit the wall. My love for him, paired, of course, with my achievements, would finally build a bridge strong enough for us to cross into a different sort of world than we’d lived. My father would straighten in his chair, he would lock eyes with me. If my short story collection was published after that, then miracles beyond my understanding would take flight. ![]() If my novel was published, surely my father would stop drinking. ![]()
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