“Merry Christmas, Mom!” my young daughter, 11, squealed, as she and her two brothers ran around our favorite tree lot. “This is the one place,” she continued, “you can say ‘Merry Christmas’ and no one gets upset about it.” “That’s true,” I chuckled. But, that was a white lie.
My parents separated in 1971, during one of Seattle’s coldest winters. A record 1122 inches of snow fell on Mt. Rainier that year.
I was 12, and now living with my mom, brother, 8, and sister…
… Read more at HuffingtonPost.com
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written. – Oscar Wilde
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