By Stephen C. Schultz The conversation was light, and the chuckles came easy. My daughter stood at the kitchen island, telling me about Michael Jackson , the new movie, the renewed interest, and how his music seems to be finding its way back into the world again. It was simple and good. Just a father and his daughter sharing something familiar. I turned back to my screen to finish typing a few work notes when a sudden crash broke the moment. A sharp thud at the end of the island. I looked up and she was gone from view. I was out of my chair in a second, rounding the corner to find her on the ground in the middle of a seizure. She had narrowly missed hitting her head on the wall as she fell. I knelt beside her, steadying her, rubbing her arm, letting her know I was there. Nothing complicated, just presence. Slowly, she came out of it, disoriented but returning. I helped her to her feet. There’s always a moment that follows, frustration, a kind of edge that comes with having “one more...
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