When I packed my bag on the very last day of June to come to my parents’ house, I thought I was packing for a few weeks, tops. School was finally out for the summer, there were three-kids worth of clothes to also think about and my own packing was mostly an afterthought. What came with me was what I managed to throw into a bag while the rest of family’s bags were getting loaded into the back of the wagon. I was pacified by the knowledge that unlike in our apartment in Brooklyn, I was headed someplace with a washing machine and dryer and ample outdoor drying space. As long as there was enough underwear to last a few days and my bathing suits, I’d be fine.
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