So we moved my mother this week.
We sorted and moved forty two years worth of stuff. Every time you opened a closet you would find stuff clinging to the top shelves like coral on a rock. You would close a cupboard door, satisfied that you got all the stuff out, only to come back in an hour to hear the muffled sound of giggling. The stuff somehow got back in the cupboard. The stuff was mocking us.
I grew to hate the stuff.
Anyway, the party is over. She is ensconced at her new apartment and it is lovely. The stuff is not unpacked yet. I hope it doesn't revolt against the new apartment. I mean, I would hate to have to burn the stuff...really really hate that.
It’s sad to leave the house you grew up in. It’s also pretty snappy that the attached picture is mom’s view from her apartment. Yeah, only on PEI would the normal view from an apartment be Malpeque Bay.
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