Just after my younger brother, Bobby, passed away, I kept thinking of all the things he and I did when we were young. I could be wrong, but I think that Bobby’s best place was when he was about nine years old when we lived right on the edge of the Long Island Sound in Branford, Connecticut.
I haven’t seen Emily since she stayed at our house overnight. She was four years old when her mother whisked her away from California to some miniature state on the East Coast. Yep. Last time ever.
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