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I've been realizing that everything changes. After reading through my blog the same way one reads through a diary, I see a lot of differences within even myself. Other than the fact that I speak differently -- for instance, though you can't tell from the writing, the abundance of slurred syllables and street proclitics is now much less prevalent in my speech -- my life has taken several turns, my fast friends have slowly faded from my life, and the music is great. When people say, "You've changed", it often carries with it some negativity.
But last night, my sister put her son to sleep in the crib and sang him lullabies. One of them she seemed to make up or, at least, tailored the lyrics for him, and in it she sang that she will love him forever, that she will like him always, and that Nolan would be her baby for as long as she's living. Something about it was so touching that I felt suddenly like I should disappear, that I was witnessing something of a depth more intimate than what I was a part of. And then, it was something so familiar. I realized what was sacred to me suddenly was the realization that my sister -- this woman I grew up with, fought with, ate with, cried with, this woman I saw through our soccer games and sweaty summers, bicycle accidents and crummy youth orchestras, bandaids and Barbie dolls and broken lego pieces, was now a mother. My sister was now a mother.
So people change as well. And sometimes it's just as beautiful.
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