My Father’s Arms. A Sure Place in Uncertain Days
The young girl dangled from a large tree limb, legs flailing, tongue wailing. She was stuck and terrified of hanging so far above the ground — terrified even more of letting go to slip into her father’s arms flung outstretched beneath her. Her saga on the limb, though dangerous, was a sure thing, even if she didn’t like it — though she dangled, her grasp was strong and the limb sturdy.
But she was stuck and afraid.
Afraid to let go.
The young girl was me.
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