She said: "He had been there for a long time, so long in fact, we almost forgot what he looked like. They put him away in a place far away from us. We couldn't go that far too many times a year. I have to work or the kids don't get school bags or shoes or any of the other hundred things school aged girls need. I wrote him letters for a time, but they gradually got less and less. He would write back, but not too often. It was always the same: "I'm doing OK, they're gonna let me out sometime; wait for me." Well, we tried to wait but that waiting was wearing us down. Dammit! Kids need a Father and a Mother both. I couldn't keep on doing everything, waiting for him to make parole. I met someone. He was good to us. I maybe didn't love him, but he was good to us and that makes up a lot. The girls got used to him being their Dad. He helped me out with the money. He did drugs, too, just like their Dad, but not so much to make the police notice him. He didn't hit me and he didn't hit the girls. We're doing OK now. I know what that "One Day At A Time" thing means. We're doing OK. It's still One day At A Time."

Stumble It!