Crushin’

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I’d just gotten a text, “Mom, when are you picking me up?” She’d not looked to see me sitting in the parking lot, waiting for her practice to end. Protecting herself from the unpredictable rain, she’d been standing with friends in the school’s lobby, oblivious of the view from the large glass windows lining the hall. I replied, “Now.” She climbed into the van smiling, which lately is a rarity of expression as she navigates her pre-teen moods. . . .

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