Knives In
How far will I go to protect my family? A raw, (very) personal essay.
"Just a little deeper," I tell myself. I start to really lean into it. But rivulets of sweat suddenly pour down my forehead just as a rogue gust of wind passes me, and my eyes fill with a scratchy paste of dirt and salt. I'm blinded.
"Shit!" I yell, dropping my shovel and flinging my glasses aside. Then, too late, I clap my hand over my mouth: Someone c…
