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October 06, 2019



My list is also long, as you know. The one constant for part of it was our house, because it was on wheels and went from Salem to the mountains of WVa to the mountains of Southwest VA, back to my birthplace. It eventually wound up on a farm somewhere with my great-aunt living in it.

Yes, frequent moving taught me to adapt to new places, to blend in, and to be invisible, a skill I have mastered. It also taught me to be careful with love, because the pain of that loss when you move, again, is like no other. When someone you love passes, there's a finality. Yes, I know in my heart that my Dad is with me, but I also know that I will never again hear his voice or see his face in this world.

But losing someone because of distance or circumstance...there's no closure. What was there is gone, but it didn't have to be. Someone made a choice: my parents or an employer, for instance...and the crack in my heart grew a little wider until it burst open in 1974. I was 13. It took 35 years to get back to the level of trust in friendship I had when we left Appalachia.

I can feel the crack, and time is short.

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