Don't let the title of this post fool you: it's the title of a new creative nonfiction essay/memoir of mine, published in Quicksilver, and it's not what it seems. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I had lots and lots of pieces accepted at the tail end of 2009, and now they all seem to be coming out in a rush, so I'm posting them here as fast as they arrive. This one is the tiniest bit dated--my daughter's now eleven, not ten as in the piece--but the feelings expressed therein haven't changed.
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