“You don’t have to lift a finger,” he said and discouraged her from working or doing chores while buying anything she wished.
“You are my precious little girl, and I want you to stay that way.”
When Daddy passed, his little girl, now forty-seven, got a job at a gas station food mart. For the first time, she knew how it felt to get her hands dirty and to earn a wage.
Life was hard, she thought, but living a sheltered life, with things handed to her, was far worse.