There are things I could never anticipate, like learning my childhood home had been converted to a residence for the mentally handicapped. Seriously. The property, housing several adult men with round the clock supervision, was sterile and bleak. Hard to fathom the same house witnessed countless backyard barbeques, rights of passage celebrations, and verboten high school bashes when my parents were away. Dogwoods, a weeping birch, rose and peonies bushes have been uprooted from the earth. A fence guards the perimeter seemingly to deter the inhabitants from trying to leave. The house where I spent the first eighteen years of my life was unrecognizable.
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