I complained about millennials, but the truth was that I didn’t understand myself. What gazed back at me in the mirror wasn’t the person I thought I was. I was the young girl in Reseda swimming in our backyard pool. The newlyweds who passed up the luau at the Polynesian Cultural Center so we could make wild, screaming love on our honeymoon. The young mother holding my babies for the first time. I was not the middle-aged woman in the mirror.
Tammy was old enough to be my daughter. And my own daughter, Stacy, she could be…
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