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July 12, 2009
We were just sitting on the porch downstairs, on the side in front of our door, letting K sleep in his stroller after having taken a walk in the bright summer sun, and I looked to the neighbors’ side, where they store things like old sneakers, a child’s car seat upturned, a large plastic horse for a child to ride, the dead plants overhead, and I remembered the previous neighbors, with their tapestry rug under wide wicker chairs and a small table, burning a fat candle, their teen son greeting us as we came home, playing acoustic guitar for friends.