After 2 years in the cabin and a temporary move to a guest house across the street from family friends, my family (which now consisted of my parents, Onni and I) moved to Eastern Washington. We lived in a townhome that had 2 bedrooms, 1 1/2 bathrooms and square footage that estimated to 1200 feet (if my memory serves me well).
Since this place was so small I found my home outside. Onni and I attended a private school on the other side of town and took the public bus to and from classes. Our busstop was a block from the apartment. It was in front of a mini-mall and faced an empty lot full of tumbleweeds and lava rock. Having gone back to this place in previous years, I can attest that it was nothing to brag about. But it wasn't so much the location as the memories that made that place my home. After all, I shared this busstop with a neighbor who was in the same grade as me. She and I became inseperable and spent our mornings kicking lava rocks and pretending to be princesses who were being chased by kidnappers. It's because of that busstop that I continue to have a valued relationship with her to this day.
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