The Path

Sensitive Soul

Last night my eldest daughter shuffled into my room, just after I’d drifted off into a deep sleep. I sensed her presence, even before I awoke, and then stirred when her “Mommy?” pricked through the quiet. At the respectable age of eleven, Laura reserves ‘Mommy’ for those times of special need, usually in the ink of night. “Something’s not right,”…

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