We lived at the base of the One-Mile Hill, where rattlesnakes slid down into the shade of our carport. My earliest memory is standing in ruffled white panties, held back by the arm and taught the ritual: open slowly, look below the threshold, then the stoop, then the concrete. The prairie taught me to respect the dangers I could see. It took years to learn how to survive the ones I couldn’t.
Behind closed doors, I knew another man entirely: a man who struck me, who betrayed me, who left me in fear. Over time, those shadows hollowed me out from the inside until I no longer recognized myself. And yet, even in that hollowing, I pray I have heard God rightly in telling the truth of what I lived.
This is an excerpt from this custom blog post. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Curabitur tincidunt mollis ante non volutpat.
Excerpt lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Curabitur tincidunt mollis ante non volutpat. Nam consequat diam nec leo rutrum tempus.