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Whether it was graduations (someone was always matriculating), the Ketteler picnic (my dad’s side), or the Seiler Reunion (my mom’s), being with my cousins in the summer came to equal a kind of freedom.
In this lifetime, we diagnose, we intervene, and we make life better. So why does it feel so much like we’re fucking up the end game?
What I can’t decide now is whether I want my 7-year-old daughter to walk the same path as me. Maybe I could save her from it.