The Same Mother

We stayed at the beach until the bitter end, stuffed our suitcases with dirty clothes, and hopped a midnight flight home. At a sleepy breakfast the next morning I saw the difference between my two children.  I don’t know how two such varying people come from the same mother. The older sister spoke the voice of reason; she recommended that next year we come home a day earlier from our two week rockstar vacation to rest, to unpack, to catch up on laundry, and to buy groceries. She seeks civilization and order. Her baby sister embraces chaos and adventure. The uncertainty seems to fuel her spirit. Struggling to hold up her face from her cereal bowl, Piper asked, “How come we didn’t go to New York City, too?”

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