Before the sun had even risen, I stood in the kitchen, carefully ironing my son Lucas’s crisp white shirt for his first day of first grade. I wanted everything to be perfect for him — his hair neatly combed, his backpack ready, his clothes spotless. This was a big day, one we’d been talking about all summer. I wished my husband, Travis, shared my excitement. But when I glanced toward the living room, I saw him sprawled on the couch, still asleep, the faint smell of alcohol in the air from the night before. Hungover and irritable, he brushed me off when I tried to wake him. Continue reading…
