smile as our GMC Jimmy pulls into the short, paved driveway of my parent’s house. This is a space that my parents made their own without me, over the past years. This is their home.
My home is in Waltham, MA. I love visiting their home for many reasons, but one in particular. I will explain, in my short story, why I hold my parent’s house so special to me. The sight is reassuring. The green grass is perfectly trimmed, as if they cut each blade one at a time, measuring it up to the one cut before (which, take it from me, I would not put past my mom).