My parents passed away over the last few years — my dad in January of 2011, and my mom in late July of 2013. Both lived into their late 80s, so they both had a good, long run at life. The last house they owned was a large, unattractive brick structure that was among the first houses in the area built by white settlers. That house was old when I lived there, and frankly, my parents couldn’t keep up with it — especially towards the end — so the place was in pretty rough shape.
That house still holds an enormous stash of memories for me; it’s the house I grew up in. In fact, I hadn’t lived anywhere else until I moved away after graduating high school. One of my fondest memories...
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