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In my role as a mother, repetition and chaos are continual. The rituals of everyday fluctuate; some flowing peacefully, others startling and unpredictable. The contrast between comfort and worry, hope and regret, and pride and shame can be consoling. When I am low I know the highs will come. The lulls will not last, so I reach to embrace each experience. The waiting, worrying and pacing the floor are a fair trade off for the sublime beauty that I find inherent in my children. In the current of everyday life, I am often lost. My identity becomes formless; fluid and evolving.
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