Sewing for Hope
RED HEARTS decorated the windows inside the dollar store, but that wasn’t what I’d come in for today. I’d stopped off on my way home from my nursing shift at the V.A. Mental Health Clinic as a favor to one of my patients.
Irv was a Vietnam veteran who struggled with alcohol abuse. So much so that I’d referred him to a rehab center out of state. Irv wasn’t happy about going, but he went. “You wouldn’t believe it here, Bert,” he’d told me over the
