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I give my baby a bottle in the hour before light
And cry into the dark
There is a story I will have to tell her someday
And it won’t be the one I wanted for my daughter
All those school years of presidents on classroom walls
And I never once saw myself
And now neither will she

Not yet, I’ll tell her
Because I don’t tell stories without hope

Should I be grateful she is too young
To experience what these next years will be
Does it give us time to change our mind, as a country, as a people

Or should I be scared out of my fucking head
That this could be a nation that wants her dead
And how do I raise her kind and strong in a storm of hate

I make it small:
I smile at her over breakfast
She smiles back
We listen to music on our drive
We keep moving
Forward

There are no endings here
This is still the beginning of her story

With Love,
Natalie

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