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When we closed down my childhood home, I was ready to let everything go into the back of a large white Salvation Army truck. My hope was there was something left behind from my childhood that could help someone else’s life going forward.

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Standing on the shoreline of a body of water cut from glacial forces, I can’t help but marvel at the tens — if not hundreds — of thousands of small rocks that surround my boots. They all are created from hard surfaces, their edges softened over time, their jagged elbows replaced by accommoda…