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different paths Most of the day was spent with my family. All four of us were home for the weekend and I have to doubt that my parents could have imagined us thirty years ago. Then I suppose that is the hidden reward of being a parent. The four of us certainly look like brothers and sisters, but each of us couldn't be more different. Neither brother is like the other one, nor do the sisters mimic one another. Hope isn't Heather and Trevor certainly isn't me. It is good to see them and we probably won't get together again until Thanksgiving. Once a month seems to be the pattern that we follow.
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