My niece, Susannah, found an archived Decatur, Illinois newspaper article about an accident my mother was in at the age of 22. The name of the driver was a man my mother would marry the following year. Another article revealed that man drowned in Vegas at the age of forty-eight. My brother was sixteen when this stranger died. He wouldn’t know the man was his father until years later.
The info triggered an uncomfortable realization; I didn’t give my mother enough credit for her difficult life.
Or, my brother for his disjointed life.
Or, so many others for the painfully broken roads they have traveled.
Maybe the realization will help me be nicer to my fellow screwed-up traveling partners.