Before I lived in this
house, I lived in the one across the street, which friends now own. About six
weeks after I moved in, Jerry Garcia died. I remember hearing the news, then lying
on the couch near the fireplace, waiting for Tim to come home from work. When I
walk into that room, I often think of that day. Still.
I'd think of the Challenger disaster walking into the house we first rented in Alexandria. I sat on the couch in shock.
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