There's a photograph on the fridge at my parents house of my sister and I coloring on the steps of our old house when we first moved to Michigan when I was two years old. We lived there for about a year, and I don't remember this place at all except for getting this picture taken. I have no doubt that the only reason I remember it is because I've been staring at a picture of it on the fridge probably since it was taken. I remember me and my sister following my Dad out the door carrying his camera. We were carrying coloring books and that plastic box with all the crayons in it. Dad wanted to take our picture, so we sat down on the front steps and he knelt down and snapped the picture.
I think it's needless to say that I've changed a lot since then, as I was two years old, and I'm 21 now (if you want to argue otherwise, please do so in the comments). When I look at it, I think about my Dad, who honestly hasn't changed at all. If I went home right now, I can see him calling me out on our front steps and taking a few pictures.
I've been to that place once since I've been old enough to remember it, and I didn't recognize it at all. Not because it was different, but because I was three when we moved out. But the front steps looked just like the steps in the picture, and that was pretty cool.
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