I shook my head trying to get the ringing out of my ears. I closed my eyes and poked my tongue out to touch the corner of my mouth. The warm coppery taste of blood exploded on the tip of my
tongue, just as I knew it would. Apparently, I hadn’t learned my lesson. Hadn’t I just gone
seventeen years of this hell? How could I be so stupid as to walk right back into the same mess.
Same mess, different man.
I guess in my defense I can only say is that I was lonely. I’d go to work then come home to
nothing but silence. No children laughing(or fighting), no cartoons blaring on the tv
Four years ago I had left my home, my children, what few friends I had(or was allowed to
have), and came to this town to start over. I stayed in a domestic violence shelter for about
three months, just long enough to find a job, a home, and a new life. I was completely cut
off from my children for almost a year, the toughest year I’ve ever had to live through.
My children lived in a another town thirty miles away. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a car.
for the first year, I worked three very low paying jobs to try and get by. What else could
I do? I didn’t have any formal education, didn’t graduate from high school, nor did I ever
receive my GED. I wasn’t allowed to do those things. That would have given me too much
independence, make me think things I shouldn’t, like leaving.
After what seemed like forever of waitressing for low pay and barely any tips to speak of
in a local pizza joint, a friend of mine I met in the domestic violence shelter helped me to
get a job at her company. I would be making $6.00 more an hour than I was waitressing.
The big snag was I hadn’t a way to get to the training that was over an hour away. How
could I let this opportunity slip by me? I felt like bawling my head off. I felt so defeated.
What was I to do?
I’ve been told there are miracles around every corner if you only look for them. Miracles
are something I had no experience in, never having seen one in person. As I came home one
night from work there was a miracle sitting on my porch, though I didn’t know it at the time.
My neighbour was actually a very annoying man, but he was my friend. How can that be?
Cary always meant well, an I guess that’s what I saw in him, his good intentions. You’ve heard
The saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Believe me when I say it’s true
