Grand Central Station

That was my house growing up. I was thinking this morning how we had 5 bedrooms for 3 people, which seems like a lot, but then I thought how seldom it was that there were only 3 people living in our house. I'm not sure there were ever just the 3 of us, honestly. Trying to remember who all was in and out ...

At first, there was Blanche, who had been my grandmother's nurse/companion and then my nanny.

And Albert, who was a fixture in the family long before I was born.

Then Aunt Jennie, my grandmother's sister, who came to us after she had broken a hip, I think, and unable to live alone anymore. (And bitterly resentful. Which I can sympathize with now, and wish I had been more sensitive to then.)

Debbie, who was a down-on-her-luck friend of my mother's and who went out of her way to create trouble.

Murgesh, the adopted son of a Russian Orthodox priest we knew. My parents offered him a place to live while he went to college.

Todd, who was a fixture in the family for a long while as well, until things rather fell apart.

Naho, the Japanese exchange student my parents hosted and about whom I have little to say.

Looking back at the list, I'm rather pleased that we don't have room for that kind of thing!