My great-aunt Ruth remembered a cute story that took place in my Mother’s grandparents’ home when my Mother was a small child. It involved Mom walking around the house and mentioned the northeast bedroom. The northeast bedroom? As I read it, I scrunched my nose and made that face when I am certain that something is wrong. My own grandparents had lived in the same home for thirty years. I had been in it often. There was no northeast bedroom. The entire north side of the house was the living room. Then I remembered. My Grandparents, not needing the downstairs bedrooms, had taken down a wall and enlarged the living room. The seeming error in my great-aunt’s story was not an error at all. My personal memory was […]
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