Sometimes when I see parents with little girls I feel a twinge of envy. I wonder what it would be like. I project dreams and expectations for my own life's do-over onto a little girl with messy hair and striped tights and a dirty dress.
But then I see a mother five years my senior laughing over lunch in a hospital cafeteria with her teenage boys and my heart swells, threatening to burst at the seams, spilling flashes of my future out onto my lap.
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