When my stepdaughter handed me that little box, I was standing at the stove stirring a pot of macaroni.
When I opened it, I screamed so loudly it echoed through the entire house.
I need to tell you why.
But to do that, I have to start with the worst day of my life. Because everything that happened afterward, every single thing, grew out of that day like a tree growing out of a crack in the road.
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