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“Well, mama,” my 8-year-old daughter began, shrugging. “At least God still knows how many hairs are on your head!” I stared dejectedly at the snarl of hair twined around my fingers, a thick strand that had been abruptly torn out when I sat up quickly from my position leaning against the headboard of our bed. The wall behind me, once painted a garish shade of canary yellow, was scuffed and shadowed and vandalized with penciled graffiti and nail holes, some still lodged with n