It’s a cliche, how history repeats itself.
It’s true, at least in our family, as life motors on I see glimpses of my past squished with my present or projected in my future.
Time truly is liquid.
My daughter started ballet a few months ago. She loves the pink outfit, the tights, the shoes. She prances around the house doing pirouettes now. “Watch this move!” she’ll yell gleefully as she swiftly glides by the...