Mother to child and child to mother, this is the story that follows me, the ghost that haunts me. My daughter, my mother, her mother, her mother’s mother. It is as if they have left footprints in the snow. Try as I might to deviate, my feet fall gently but firmly into their well-worn grooves. My daughter before me, my daughter after me. The times when I carry my daughter and the times when she carries me.
-Pippa Grace
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