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For my mother, on her birthday

May 4, 2009

She knew me before I knew myself, and as we age, the photographs show two women marching along such a similar path.

I love her fiercely, and fight her fiercely, too. We are cleaved, we are cleft, we are contrary, we are carbon. Sometimes it is complicated, this dance away and then back again.

But I always carry her with me. Her voice is my voice. Her heart gave rise to my strength. Her approach leads me to accept nothing less than a life with arms fully outstretched.

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