from Harsh Reality
Most of us remember the nuances of the houses we grew up in. We know the nooks and crannies, and the sounds the house makes when it settles and groans. We know the clicking noise of the furnace kicking in, the whistling sound of the wind blowing through the windows, and how the gate slams as someone makes their way to the door. We can trust our way in the dark during power outages or to sneak food from the refrigerator at midnight because we know where the furniture is and where the stairs begin and end.
I lived in three different houses growing up, the first two in Michigan and the third in Minnesota. Each move brought more carpeting. I lost the early warning system that wooden floors and creaky steps gave me as the carpet grew wall-to-wall.
The first nine years of my life I lived in Grant…
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