missing home
I dreamt that a group of women wanted to buy my parent's house, and that a real estate agent showed them around. There were holes in the floor and other problems but we were kicked out anyway. The saddest part is that that house is now gone, no longer holding the title of "home" for me. Jefferson is where my parents are now, or the northern reaches of Richmond Hill, a new start reminiscent of our first coming to York Region -- a fresh home, dusty roads, few amenities within walking distance. Do I have any right to miss the house I grew up in, having flown from that roost? A little, maybe just a little. And how am I, you may ask. Time does fly by with age, as we grip the grains tightly they spill even out with greater force. My, uh, lamentations are still a ways from subsiding, but I do occasionally find something to take my mind off them, my troubles of the heart. LiveGreen volunteering is still going strong -- did my first Environment Day this past Saturday -- we...