Elegy for the Invisible Mom
Article written by Joy Redstone for the Daily Camera
The rock I am sitting on is cold, my children's faces are confused. The counselor said to leave the house when he gets angry but it's 7:30 a.m. and we left without our coats. The children ask why we can't go home where it is warm but I can't forget the fear that flashed in my daughter's eyes as he loomed closer to me, shouting. I can't stop thinking about every time my father trapped me in a corner as a child, screaming angry, unintelligible words, and other words that were all too clear. I guess my father was right; I am stupid to have chosen this man.
