Just yesterday I was holding you on my hip. Swaying from side to side. A motion, it seems, gifted to all new mothers. As natural as breathing in and out. Or so it seems like yesterday. Wasn’t I just bemoaning the rough night I had, rocking you in the midnight hours? Pacing a dark house…
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She does this dance. A genuinely happy, exuberant, twisting, jumping, and twirling dance. And it’s all for me. Her wide, crooked smile greets me as I pull into the garage. It’s dark. I’ve been gone all day. The last time I saw her was early in the morning at kindergarten drop-off. We exchanged “kissing hands”,…
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