During one of our pleasant family dinners, I told my sons about the friend’s suggestion to make ductions and sell the original laylights. I did not mention that it would help me pay the property give me some security which was something I had lacked during most of my marriage with a nd in medical school, followed by a hard internship and many years of specialized training in long hours, r and with ALL its windows (in addition to the two spare windows) and the valuable three light in the dining room ceiling, was quite special. In a way, the house was an albatross around my neck, because, without a quit claim from a ant husband to part with it, I was unable to sell it when a prospective buyer showed up. I felt ted, could not travel much, and was suffering with pain from Tietze’s syndrome and other
ous low pay, and knowing where uld live the next did mention to ns that selling opying the ceiling could pay for raduate ing. “No, Mom,” eplied, nearly in n. “Let’s not e the house. We t scholarships or for graduate .” Moments like re engraved upon emory. They were
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