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Separation

Yesterday, my oldest daughter came home with the registration cards for her next year of Middle School. She clattered on about it as she walked in the door, barely pausing to take breath as she moved from one topic to the next.

She's at an age where all she wants is to tell me every detail of her day, and I have to remind myself it won't always last. (Or maybe it will! I never cut out my mother. She might not set me completely adrift!)

Still.

She showed me the schedule. I read it while she got dressed for ballet. I imagined I knew all the classes she most wanted to try out. Then she came back, and informed me I was completely wrong.

This daughter and I are the most similar. We look alike. We make the same faces when people annoy us. We read, and dance, and grow quiet and shy the same away. But we are not the same person. And as much as I tell myself this, and try not to be insane and think I understand everything about her, I forget.

She wants to take classes on birds. The cod…

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