2 stories.

When I was a Sophomore in college, I found myself on a weekend trip to a small and beautiful town in the Mid Hudson River Valley of New York. Since I was a child, I’ve spent weekends exploring similar places, first by my parents’ insistence (they loved nothing more than spending a weekend at an antique auction or sprawling flea market), and then by my own accord. I began to find the thrill in the treasure hunt and even started a collection of my own: antique salt and pepper shakers.
On that particular trip to New Paltz, I found an extraordinary treasure in the form of a small, worn magnet. It had the name I had chosen for my future daughter, something I always looked for in collectibles and read, “Lady _____: Made with Purity and Excellence”. That magnet stayed with me for years, packed away in the tiny, beautiful paper bag that they gave me at that little vintage shop. And now, as of last week, it is hanging on my refrigerator, holding up a photo of my daughter in a bubble bath. When people spot it, they smile. So do I.
Last night before bed, my daughter was being particularly delicious; trading kisses for hugs, engaging in epic tickle torture battles and blabbing up a storm. We knew it would take a lot to wind her down, so we rubbed her back and sang to her as we prepared to start the bedtime routine. We asked her about her day at school and in a slightly dazed and relaxed state, she sat up, looked at her daddy and said, “I paint a rainbow, baby.” And then she held up her hand, raised her two fingers slightly and, looking at him square in the face, said, “Peace, Man.” We nearly fainted from cuteness overload. And I realized, her free spirit may be, in part, credited to the two us, but should also be attributed to her very first Tribe of friends.
So, My lady: Made with Purity, Excellence and Hippie sweat.

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