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Monday, July 14, 2014

The Perfect Storm

I don't understand my teenager. I love her deeply, and fiercely, but I don't understand a lot about her. She is walking in the summer night rain with a friend right now...

As I just said at bedtime prayers with Punch, God, please bless our Figgy and keep her safe and let her know that even when things are hard, she can get through them. Also, thank you, God, for her good friends.

And boyfriend, Punch piped up, curled on her side in her white cotton peasant nightgown.

But I worry about the drama we call love, and the many charged emotions that swirl around it. Shakespeare worried about/pondered it, and so do I. [Are we sure Shakespeare wasn't a mother?]

Good night. 

1. Boot camp in park.
2. Bubble bath.
3. Reading break, Sug curled by my side.

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