a friend sends us new year wishes with a photograph of his daughter. she begins high school this fall. can this be the little mop haired bean sprout from our barbary walk days? we are separated by years and continents and now, it appears, by our memories too. some people come to us at a younger time and then somehow remain there.
we are growing older now, her father writes, and we hope that God will give us strength for our days. he is lined and grey as we have become. how did this happen when his little girl is still little?
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