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Add yet another co-write with my daughter. What can I say?
…But her soul, only partially unpackaged, singsthrough the slate that guards it, contacts those of us waiting here with a splay of its softscrutinizing fingers. Her soul is a sapling…
After Saturday, I felt happier than I have felt since, oh, about Columbus Day Weekend–– and I didn’t even march. But I felt like I did. Tom and the kids went…