Becoming What You Were Meant To Be by Nina Bingham
Today I drove past my daughter's High School, the Dairy Queen we used to make late night ice cream runs to, and the condo where she died while I slept soundly in the next room. The tears gushed even as I fought them back. I sobbed over my steering wheel like I sometimes do when I travel down this road. Yet rather than avoid it, I make myself go down this terrible street. Why?