As we sat down to eat dinner last night at my Grandmother’s house I was struck by the fact that that might be one of the last times I will ever set foot in the house. No matter if I never visit it again it will always be Grandma’s. It won’t matter who lives there, or what they do to it, that house will always exist in my memory as it did when I was a child.

I think that no matter the changes that happen your memory fixes that image, that feeling, that sense of a place in your mind forever. Forty years from now that house on Main street will still be Grandma’s. It will be the place we had Christmas, the place I spent summers, the place where Grandma lived. No matter if it is torn down, or I never see it again, it will exist in my memory as how it was, not how it is.

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