Nonfiction | December 01, 2005

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The high-school guidance counselor was diligently rounding up the usual suspects.  My ex-husband, my daughter, Ingo, as she’s asked to be called here, and I had come in for a meeting.  I sat on one sofa, Ingo’s dad sat on another, and when Ingo herself joined us, she plopped down beside me and spent a good part of the session leaning on me.

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