BreakingNight - (EPUB全文下载)

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Breaking Night
A MEMOIR OF
FORGIVENESS
,
SURVIVAL, AND
MY
JOURNEY FROM

HOMELESS TO
HARVARD
LIZ MURRAY
This book is dedicated to three people whose love made it possible.
TO EDWIN FERMIN
, for the years behind us, for the years ahead of us, side-by-side. Thank you for taking care of my father when we needed you. Thank you for sharing your dreams with me and for being my family. Thank you for being my no-matter-what. When I look at all the good in my life, inside all of it, I see you.
TO ARTHUR FLICK
, for the fishing trips, the motorcycle rides, the camping and each one of our adventures that I will always cherish. Thank you for being my Guardian Angel and my heart’s compass. You were right, Arthur, you do get to choose your family.
TO ROBIN DIANE LYNN
—a Trusting, Powerful and Giving woman. Robin, you are a beautiful soul and the embodiment of contribution. This world was blessed to have you in it. Because of you, so many of us are blessed still. Thank you for showing me what it looks like to stand in a commitment, come what may.
“Don’t let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.”
—COACH
JOHN
WOODEN
Those who wish to sing always find a song.
—SWEDISH PROVERB
“Breaking Night”
URBAN SLANG FOR:

staying up through the night,
until the sun rises.
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1 - University Avenue
Chapter 2 - Middle of Everything
Chapter 3 - Tsunami Weather
Chapter 4 - Unraveling
Chapter 5 - Stuck
Chapter 6 - Boys
Chapter 7 - Breaking Night
Chapter 8 - The Motels
Chapter 9 - Pearls
Chapter 10 - The Wall
Chapter 11 - The Visit(or)
Chapter 12 - Possibility
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
A Personal Invitation from Liz Murray
 
About the Author
Praise for Breaking Night
Copyright
Prologue
I HAVE JUST ONE PICTURE LEFT OF MY MOTHER. IT’S 4 × 7, BLACK-AND-WHITE
, and creased in different places. In it, she is seated slightly hunched, elbows touching knees, arms carrying the weight of her back. I know very little about her life when it was taken; my only clue is written in orange marker on the back. It reads: Me in front of Mike’s on 6th St. 1971.
Counting backward, I know that she was seventeen when it was taken, a year older than I am now. I know that Sixth Street is in Greenwich Village, though I have no idea who Mike is.
The picture tells me that she was a stern-looking teenager. Her lips are pressed together in thought, offering a grimace for the camera. Framing her face, her hair dangles in beautiful wisps of black, smokeli ............

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