After a weekend with her dad, my 6-year-old daughter, Lily, couldn’t linox even sit down. At the ER, her tiny bo/dy suddenly went limp.
My hands weren’t just shaking; they were vibrating with a frantic, terrible frequency that rattled my very bones, turning the simple act of gripping the worn leather steering wheel into a desperate wrestling match with a live wire. The high beams of my sedan sliced through the thick, humid Georgia darkness, illuminating the endless, suffocating…