A Feminist At 40

Then, at just shy of thirty-six years of age, you have a baby girl. She is a surprise in so many, many, ways. First, she turns one, then two, three and four and finally, she is five. She is your mini-me. In birth month. In birth order. In dry wit. In the freckles that stream across her face. And, she is so smart and so bossy and so confident. She is the absolute light of her family. “The icing on the cake,” your husband declares.

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