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This is my daughter three years ago. She is helping make dinner, putting the asparagus tree on top of the mashed potato mountain like my Dad used to do for me.
For three and a half years the two of us lived alone in a little apartment that was our playground. We had fun. We made each other laugh like crazy. We adored each other daily. It was just us girls. My sister would ask me “so how’s your roomie?”.
So much has changed. We’re less feral and more formal these days, wear clothes more often, etc. There are three of us now, soon four. School has taught her ‘appropriate behaviour’, which seems to be the sole purpose of school as far as I can see. She’ll be a big sister soon, and she’s becoming very responsible. She has lots of friends and interests that take her out into the world. She's a lovely girl.
All of this is good. We’re happy and I have a lot less to worry about. It's probably not the best thing for a little girl and her mother to be so isolated, so exclusive. We got bored and lonely in those days, too. But goddam did we have fun.