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  • There are four daughters who grew up, got married, and had babies. Twelve babies to be exact. My mom has tracked the growth of each child on the back of the dining room door with a pen at various intervals throughout the year, but always at Christmas when we have the chance to get together. Years of overlapping growth are etched into the grain of our family’s history on this pale wooden door.

    With a smile I saw my mom set aside her cooking to pull a dining room chair to the back of the door and stand on it to mark the height of her tallest grandson. She then stooped to measure barefoot eight month old Joshua, our most recent addition. The room cleared after the data was collected and documented but I stayed behind to move my hand over the names and years I have loved most in this life, marveling, wondering at what will grow next.
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