in with the old

I’m sitting in the room I grew up in. We moved here when I was six. On the end of my bed is a quilt my grandmom made for me with the state of Texas sewn over large squares of white. Sunlight comes in through a window, and in the patch of backyard outside the window I remember sitting and building a fence with my dad while our new Siberian Husky puppy, Misha, ran through the yard and into my eight year-old lap. I won’t be in this house long. It’s been a month, and at the most I’m anticipating…