takes me back to when they built the turnpike right through the middle of my Pawpaw’s farmland. Nothing was ever the same again. The broke get more broke. They bulldozed his house this past year; the house where 9 babies were born and raised up to be good men and women (except for the baby, Janet…she died young) — a kitchen, living room, a tiny bathroom at some point but up til then just the outhouse, and two bedrooms, one inside the other.

Somehow they did it. I don’t know how.

Love this, Tre and walkerjo lee. As usual.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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