For She Is Like A Song, She Is Like A Ray of Light

Abigail May

The younger teenager smiled at me this morning. Twice. Our baby, firmly ensconced and clearly comfortable in her separation from us as she lives in the land of teen angst, rarely smiles. She can snark with the best of them. If someone asked me where to find an example of pure teenager, I would point to her. I know nothing, she would report. Her favorite question of me, often spoken with exasperation and a lilt of humor and frustration in her voice is, "Why are you so annoying?" And today she smiled at me. Twice.

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