One More MinuteBy Mary Aalgaard
After a restless night at the Women’s Shelter, I was wide awake at 4:00 am. It wasn’t the unusually warm and humid air for mid-October in Minnesota that kept me awake, nor the unfamiliar bed. It was the unending thought—how do you prepare yourself to break into your own house? Candi, my soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law, said that she’d text as soon as her brother, my not-so-charming husband, left on his annual hunting trip. Grayson had a cousin in South Dakota with 250 acres of land—swamp, tall grass, rolling plains—where they would go pheasant hunting every fall.
“He’ll be gone for a long weekend,” she’d texted, “Leaving Friday am. Asked me to watch Bo”
Got it. I was glad she was taking care of our Golden Retriever. He wasn’t the hunting dog that he used be.
