It was a Wednesday night around dinnertime when the phone rang. It was my father, Leo. Without any prelude, he said, “I am sorry for anything I might have done.” I said, “It’s OK.” Then we talked about the weather, what I was making for dinner. Then we said goodbye. We never spoke about this conversation again. I don’t know what prompted his call, but I do know this: My father taught me how to drive without a license, to smoke cigarettes and to ignore my mother. But by God, that night, he also taught me about forgiveness. — Helene Rosenthal

Positively Purging-I welcome your feedbacks in the comments and your likes and passing the real life wisdom on to others as I embark on this new venture of “positively purging“, as I know each of these pieces represents something…