23 years of history can just up and leave.

Found out yesterday that the people living next to my grandmother’s house has relocated to some unknown location.  Just this week.  No one knew.

Out of a sense of what might be(?) great pride, they sold off their home to some family who will be transplanting their lives in the neighborhood, without letting the neighbors know.

They moved in to the subdivision in 1985, the year of the Ox.  After two whole lunar cycles, they left on the same lunar year.

I’d feel bad about it, if I had cultivated a close friendship with the three children who grew up there.  I have brief memories of staying over to play in the afternoons — but, just like them, I grew distant.

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