my uncle grew up in a beautiful old wooden farm house in the middle of the saskatchewan prairies. there was no indoor heating and he said he would sometimes wake up with frost on his face in the morning. one day, his father moved the family to a new home just a couple of kilometres away. they left most of their large possessions behind; mattresses, curtains, a sewing machine and organ are all exactly where they left them. my uncle still lives in the family house they moved into now, with my aunt and two cousins. they took me to see the old place while i was home this winter; where pigeons have now made their home in this dilapidated nest, there is no glass on any of the windows and everything was covered in snow. this was pure magic, you can't make a story like this up.
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