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April 30, 2010
I don't know if I could live in the same apartment complex my mom moved to when she left the house back in 1997. The apartments were lain in dark, cherry red brick, topped with an old english style of woodwork. Large maple trees lined the main road throughout. Some of the images I derived from circling the apartments were of popcorn infused AMC uniforms, our cockatiel, BJ, flying off my mom's head on the balcony and listening to Tori Amos in the guest room. Even though I was only 16, I felt mature as any 29 year old there.