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to erase had never been the truth.
That night, after dinner, after brushing teeth, after a bedtime story, my daughter curled beneath her blanket and looked up at me with sleepy eyes.
“Mom,” she whispered, “are you mad at Dad?”
The question sat between us like glass.
I sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair back.
“I’m not going to let anger run continue reading …
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