To each her own
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My mother saw this photograph and said it look nothing like the Ittybit she knows.
To me it's her, heart and soul.
It's the spitting image of the child I see on a daily basis (or the child I had seen daily up until this past week, as she's been staying with her Maine grandmother for a few extra days of vay-cay-sh-a-mun.)
I miss her. I knew I would.
What I didn't realize was how quiet it would be without her around.
How different the reality is from the respite.
Now I find it strange how quiet can seem nice for a while before it just gets on a person's nerves.
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