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Summer Girls

There were two summers where all I remember is walking laps. Walking laps during the baby witching hour between 5:30pm and 6:30pm. Walking in a rectangle in our old back yard bouncing a baby girl, telling her of all we were seeing. Each little lap saying the same whispers in her ear about the airplanes and the birds and the green we were encircled by. Baby girl one started this tradition. I, desperate for a reprieve, shuffled my fussy babe out of the kitchen where I was trying to concoct something edible for our family, to our small section of the world. Our baby sized land bustling with its own purpose. I would walk and walk and walk, not having the time to remind me of my present exhaustion from the day behind. Just the bunnies and the occasional breezes and the worship songs that made me cry.

Baby girl number two was born 2 years and 359 days after baby girl number one. Their seasons have mirrored each others and the spring/summer laps happened once more. The memories were so stron…

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