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The last time

There was a lot of snow on the ground. Here in North Carolina we missed it, but this past week in Virginia it came down pretty heavily. We drove to my Grandmothers house and I looked at the miles of farmland, completely covered in white. We arrived and it was cold inside, and I looked around at what had accumulated in the house that my Grandmother lived in for thirty plus years. It was pretty depressing, there was trash piled up in every corner and ever crevice in the entire house. It was pretty difficult to separate between what was to be thrown in the huge red dumpster in the driveway and what could possibly be something important, an old photograph of my grandparents or cousins, a letter written to my Grandmother by one of my sisters when they were still in grade school.

I have never liked to see the end of things. I had to force myself to just work as quickly as possible and not think about how I was throwing away what was a life to someone else. I know that I will never go back to that house, it is not just one more chapter in my life, but closing the book about someone else. I was a kid when I ran around in the front yard on the fourth of July, ripped open Christmas presents on the many holidays I spent there. Now I was throwing away the boxes of decorations that went on the tree.

I guess we all come to the point where just have to pack it all in and call it a life. One big part of my family is gone, it just came much sooner than I thought it would. Maybe one day I will have time to drive back to that old house, maybe go inside and see who is living there and walk around a house that was such a big part of my childhood. I know that it may be a long time before that ever happens.

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