I Chose My Wealthy Mother Over My Struggling Father, and the Lesson Stayed With Me Forever

echo louder than any sound.

As the years passed, I slowly began to grasp the price of her leaving.

My father was always working. Not one job. Not two. Four. He left before the sun came up and often returned long after it had gone down. His clothes carried the scent of grease, sweat, and burnt coffee. His hands were rough and cracked, and his shoulders continue reading …