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  • I've been a young lady now for a long time. This is the first birthday that I have ever had to rehearse in my mind for four months in advance..."I am twenty-five. Like a quarter. Like a fourth of a century. I may be a quarter done with this life. I may be more than a quarter done with this life. Freaky." Biking up the incline of my street the willow branches and mailboxes would disappear from my vision and were replaced with visions of a quarter dropping into an empty green soda bottle. I don't even like soda- I only drink it by force, so maybe I'll live to be 111 or even 125.

    This week has been hard. Sobbing every night. Sobbing every night into my mother's water resistant pajamas feeling the tears bounce back at me. Sobbing, I would creak out my words: "This is- is uhhhhh uh uh this is what I was always afraid of as a child, being a twenty five year old woman living with her parents and and and crying into the arms of her mother each night!"

    And mom says in typical mom flat way, "Well a lot of twenty five year olds WISH that they could cry into the arms of their mother each night."

    "OOOOOOOhhhhhhhh SOOOOOOOO Trrrrue!" I wail, guilt ridden.

    She laughs at me for finding another reason why I should be displeased with myself.

    And despite my masterful performance of TROUBLED YOUNG CHILD IN WOMAN'S BODY I laugh. Wet teary laughs, hoist myself out of her waterbed and wish her goodnight.
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