Why I’m Stressing Out, But Not Really

Shortly after my father died in 1992, my mom packed up our life in Anchorage, Alaska and movedĀ  my two-year-old brother and four-year-old me to a significantly less gloomy place: a spacious apartment in Lake Oswego, Oregon. It has been 22 years since then, and Oregon has been the only place I have ever called “home.”

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Yesterday while packing up my kitchen, I realized that Continue reading