LaceWaking up without any memory of who I was in a place with people who didn’t know me would have been terrifying if it hadn’t been for him. The comfort I felt when he was close by pushed other darkness away. Memories slowly fighting to return, haunting images, fear that crawled closer every day until he showed up with a book by my bedside to read to me. I didn’t care what he read, just hearing his deep southern drawl ran off the monsters lurking in the shadows of my mind. Luther Levine was my hero. LutherMy life was what…
I read. And quilt. A lot.
