Some days people cross our paths and leave us with thoughts about why this happened.
I met the author of this book today, a man much senior to my age, and he kindly provided me with a copy and a handwritten note he insisted on putting on the inside page. Literally approached my table, introduced himself and told me that he was drawn to me and compelled to share his book and life with me.
Severely sexually abused as a child, a war time vet, suffering severe PTSD and mental illness he lays out his life and how the love of a dog saved him.
Everything happens for a reason. How could he have possibly known that I speak out passionately against this very thing? How could he have known that I wear many hats doing battle against this very thing? How could he have known that I have been a victims advocate for many years?
Some days just leave me wondering just how tuned in others are. He read me quick.. it’s usually me reading others. Left me a bit addled. Feeling like there is a message in all of this. Now, if I can only figure it out..
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