When I was a kid, my mom had this odd friend who lived by the lake. She had a kind of 'thrown together' house that was always being built onto and looked like most of it was built from salvaged wood. She was strange and had a strange little life. She was also pretty nonjudgmental and adored my mom.
At least, she did for a while. Eventually, my mom's batshittery got on everyone's nerves and they had a falling out. I'd not seen her for years, though when I heard she'd died a few years ago, I still felt a loss.
Recently, I noticed her daughter was selling stuff on a local online yard sale group. I knew it was her daughter because no other human in the world has this girl's strange name. When I looked over her page and her pictures, I realized she now lives in her mom's ramshackle house.
It was really neat to see pictures of it. The house isn't in much better repair than it ever was, but that was always part of its charm. It still meanders everywhere. All of the bedrooms lead to other bedrooms and it still looks like maybe part of it is held together with wood pallets, but that is one of the things I always liked about the house.
Anyway, it was a nice little stroll down memory lane. That house always had a certain feel to it and even now as I am writing this, I'm still getting that feeling. Memory is such an odd thing.
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