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My home comforts me when I walk towards the front door and . . .
. . . when I turn to look out at the world one more time before I walk inside, turn right twice, and open my front door.
I believe without doubt that my Mama, who passed away on January 7, 2011, approves of my new home, the place I found with the help of my two sons and to which I had moved by the end of January--with the help of my two sons, my brother who flew up from Mississippi, and numerous friends from work who helped pack, clean and move all of my stuff. She knew I couldn't stay in our apartment, not after she took an afternoon nap in her bedroom and did not wake up. She is happy that I found a studio apartment of a suitable size with a bonus room which works brilliantly as a bedroom and a closet large enough for 95% of my stuff--the rest is on display. And that fact that it's an apartment closer to my two sons that actually has nearby or right-out-the-front-door street parking for when they visit serves to increase the smile I know is on her sweet face.