When my marriage ended, I was thirty-one years old with a four-year-old daughter, $1,100 in my bank account, and a car that only started if I turned the key twice and whispered a prayer.
That was everything I still owned.
My daughter, Trixie, was too young to understand why her father had left or why we were packing our lives into cardboard boxes…. Continue Reading ⬇️
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