Letting Go
When I was a little girl, my parents divorced. I was three and a half... not quiet four. It was long after my third birthday, because I remember my dad being there at home when I threw my bottle in the garbage, because three year old girls are too big to drink a baby bottle. He found me out later when I went garbage picking and washed it out and filled it up with milk... he wasn't too upset... thought it was funny. I digress- I know I wasn't four yet, because I was four when my brother Johnny was shot to death it the other room of our house during an argument with my sister's boyfriend. We lived in Loveland Park Ohio at that time... after the divorce. It was after we moved from Detroit to Loveland Park and then on to Modesto California that the first memorable sorrow relative to my parents' divorce came to me. My dad followed us to Modesto, California, to be near his children. He had a niece and her family nearby in Sunnyvale, so it worked for him on a couple fronts. At...