Fall down seven times.
Stand up eight.
I wish my clumsy, accident-prone self wasn’t so easily replicated in DNA.
But there she is. Besides having blue instead of green eyes, a spitting image of me. In all her (my) clumsy, accident prone, I’m hurt again glory.
Dang it anyway.
I’m sorry, Bear.
Just know I’m stocked up on band-aids and we’re in this together.