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The pressure, as I stand on top of the hill and feel the pull of gravity from the other side, stems from all the questions popping up about "who am I?" and "what have I done with my life?" and "where did I leave my wine?"
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A letter to my son, during the Indian Summer of his childhood:
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Dear Teachers, About Your Back-to-School Parent Survey
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My third favorite BFF from high school
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Glaring-at-Children-in-a-Restaurant Years Old
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