Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. They run this path from our house to their cousins endlessly and some days (when I have to walk it countless times, too – sometimes hauling an unhappy child and a bike and a bag of freshly washed clothes that don’t belong to my kids) I miss living across the street from each other. Then I laugh. Because that’s ridiculous. And we have it so good.
A Pattern of Words 
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