From Chicken Soup for the Soul Daily Inspirations for Women

November 10

Cookie,” Papa said, “I’ve read or told you a story almost every night for six years. Now it’s your turn. Tell me a story, and I’ll write it down.”

So I told him about the time Mama and I visited Grandma Cook’s farm when I was four years old, and a big red rooster pecked my big toe with his beak and started after me. I chased him away with a broom, and Mama put medicine on my toes.

Three weeks went by. Papa read to me or told me a story every night, but he didn’t seem as happy as he used to be. One night he seemed like his old self. He showed me a newspaper, and there in black letters I recognized my name: Myrtle Cook. He had sent in my story and they had printed it.

A few days later Papa didn’t come home. Mama told me they were getting a divorce, and he was moving away. I never saw him again.

I would have grown up thinking Papa didn’t love me except for that wonderful thing he did—sending my story to get published.

Cookie Potter

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