SHE WAS TOO SICK TO SLEEP ALONE, SO I LAID ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR WITH HER
I always thought I was a good dad—not perfect, but present. Liana, my twelve-year-old, was born on a stormy night, and I’ve felt like I’ve been running through thunderstorms ever since. Her mom, Dana, left when Liana was six, claiming she needed to “find herself.” I didn’t chase her; I was too busy learning to…
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