"I had managed to keep my composure in the grocery store, and even when I was putting away my cart back to get my quarter back. But as I drove home, the tears came. I began the ugly cry."
"Tears-pouring-down-my-face, couldn't-talk-couldn't-breathe kind of laughing. Screaming laughing. So hard that I was sobbing because I couldn't get it together."
I figured he’d have a degree, a sports car, and no problem handing me the keys to a big house with a white picket fence. I didn’t realize that at forty years old I’d look at the man beside me and see a pick-up driving, vagabond, high-school graduate.
