Friday, November 13, 2009


My grandmother used to live in Victorville, CA, not but three hours away from our house in LA. My mom, dad, brother and sisters would make the drive for Thanksgiving, Easter, and when we were little, for Christmas. They had so many weird things packed into stacks so neat it kept us seeking hidden treasures for hours. Nothing was ever dusty or out of place. All of our toys were kept in a hexagonal chest, big enough for us to fit inside.

She moved back to Cincinnati, OH to be closer to family after my grandpa passed almost ten years ago, and somehow found an apartment with the same color carpeting, nesting her new space with the same pink chair and big table, her old towels, candy dishes. Her condo is half the size of her old house in California.

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