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The Freedom of Forgiveness

the thoughts and the fury and anger, I would doze off to sleep in fifteen-minute intervals. Every time I woke, I looked at the clock. Time moved slowly. I turned on the TV. The lead story for the late night local news was my mother’s murder. I shut the TV off and fell back into my rage.

And all of a sudden, my beeper went off. I looked at it and didn’t recognize the number displayed. Who would be beeping me in the wee hours of the morning?

I dialed the number back from the hotel room phone. When the phone stopped ringing, the voice of my younger brother came through the phone loud and clear. “Allen, Allen! This is Jeff.”

For a second, I was speechless. Then I screamed into the phone, “Where are you? Where the hell are you?”