Vacuuming the second floor during evening homework time was just too much for her to take and the fit that ensued was like none the mother had seen before. This outburst had new, more complex flavors. The mother could taste the sharp and tart tang of sour lemon, when her daughter’s words, in that ever increasing crescendo were hurled at her, where she stood, with the vacuum cleaner hose in her hand. Hello, almost-teenager daughter. I remember you, in your bedroom, fretting over the algebra problem, working the logic to balance the equation…both sides. Yes, I remember you. We meet once more.

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