What happens when I leave my children behind? The younger takes up skydiving. I don’t know whether I’m more afraid for her life, or envious. My older wee one, however, is being a model child (well, 30-year-old child) and has even mailed me two actual real tangible letters. I miss my habibee. (I learned that yesterday from my classmate from Baghdad. It’s the plural form of an Arabic term of endearment.) Last night in my […]
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