Helping My Sister Move

This is a sad post. If you’re worried about me, I’m fine, no, this isn’t about me. It’s about something sad that happened today and I think it deserves to be remembered.

I know at least one of you might not be able to handle this sad thing, so, here is a picture of a sleepy baby hamster.

Today I was in my sister’s kitchen, pulling out drawers and cleaning places not touched by rag or mop for years. She’s moving house, you see, having bought a new place, a few kilometers away, but closer to my parents. More importantly, she and her husband will own the home they’re moving into, rather than renting as she raises two boys.

The neighbours weren’t aware until today, when she went around to drop something off they’d borrowed. They weren’t close – it wasn’t anything particularly major. She came back, visibly shaken by the experience, and told me that when she told the older gentleman who lived next door they were leaving, he cried.

He cried because he explained that his wife was in a wheelchair – and she had loved to sit out on the back porch, behind the fence, and listen to my nephews, playing in the backyard.

That’s all I know about this.

It just seems worth remembering.

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