I have been thinking about this some time, primarily after I go back to Atlanta and do the typical drive through my old neighborhood and then by my old house. The house I grew up in, was brought home from the hospital in etc. It always makes me sad because it changes so much, sometimes for the better and then to the opposite end of the spectrum.
I've always wanted to go knock on the door and ask to see the house, explaining that some of the damage it withstood was from myself and my sister. I wanted to ask them why they took out our favorite trees in the front yard and allowed the place to get overgrown. We put a lot of work into the house before moving, lots of love before leaving.
Has anyone done this? Gone home again?
I've always wanted to go knock on the door and ask to see the house, explaining that some of the damage it withstood was from myself and my sister. I wanted to ask them why they took out our favorite trees in the front yard and allowed the place to get overgrown. We put a lot of work into the house before moving, lots of love before leaving.
Has anyone done this? Gone home again?
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