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From the Inside Looking Out

By Jennifer Whitcomb

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I never thought about it happening on a play date. My new-found friend and I had spent a delightful day making bread, mixing soup and baking cookies. While the kids played happily, we talked about art, literature, church, friends and living providently while we swapped funny stories and checked on the kids. We talked about our families. Genetic traits. Birth order. Age.

We were sitting on my friend’s playroom floor picking up toys while our boys played together; her second son, my last, when I noticed the briefest of pauses. She said “You’re 44?” And like a jolt it occurred to me that a twelve year age difference could be a big deal.

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