Because It's HOT!

Deanndra
Hall

2011 was The Year. By April 2011, we had buried three family members in eighteen months—okay, four if you count our old, red dog (and she counted, believe me). It was a hard year. On my fifty-first birthday, I stood in the rain and listened to them auctioning off my in-laws’ house. It was the culmination of everything I’d been doing for years. Although my father-in-law had died suddenly and my mother-in-law had lingered a few months with a rare form of cancer, my father had suffered with Parkinson’s disease and chronic lymphocytic leukemia since his late fifties—almost thirty years of it. I found myself in a counseling session where the counselor said, “You now have a great and terrifying opportunity. You can do anything you want. That’s a big responsibility, choosing the rest of your life.” That wasn’t one hundred percent accurate; I still had a home, three dogs, and a husband, so every minute of my time was not my own. Still, it was something to consider.

Read the entire article in the April 2017 issue of InD'Tale magazine.

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