I love to listen to stories. I could sit and listen to my grandma all day long, hearing about her past. She ate Snickers bars before she went to bed (after she brushed her teeth. oops.), was teased and called names (“Potty Dottie sittin’ on the potty!”), and sat around listening to her own grandparents speak with a Swedish accent (she’s pretty good at talking with one herself).

I think I’m just enthralled by that kind of history. If I could, I would love to somehow go back in time and hang out with my mom and my dad when they were 17 and 18. It would be fun to see who they were back then.

Of course, I know it can never happen. And I know I think too much about things like that. I mean, sometimes I wonder about what I would want my three wishes to be if there was such thing as a genie and a magic lamp. It’s weird, but that’s the kind of stuff I come up with when I’m alone with my thoughts.

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