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Cannon Road
It was Christmas Eve in 2007. I had just gotten off a plane from Oregon where I had been visiting my stepsister and my nephew. My Dad had met me outside the airport ready with his new s.u.v. The drive to my Dad's house was relatively uneventful. The same ten songs were cycling on the country radio station. I had never seen this house. My Dad had run into some storage problems with the old one story house. From what I heard this new house was two stories. As we turned the corner to the street on which it resided I got my first glimpse of his new house. It was a quite large two story house. The shutters were closed leaving evidence that there was recently a storm. Moisture from the storm coated the small lawn and driveway. There was a porch swing that faced the wooden railing on the good sized wooden porch. As we pull in my Dad's wiener dog yapped at us in its high pitched tone. The dog looked about eight to ten years of age. It had coarse brown fur with a few black hairs. Dad pulled up to a white metal garage. Next to the garage was a wooden fence with rotten patches showing. My Dad shut off the car and we opened the doors of his new s.u.v. I can hear the pine needles rustling as squirrels leap from branch to branch.. Some birds flutter from the pine trees as we slam the doors. I look out towards the forest, which threatened my Dad's house. I sighed taking in the tranquility of the trees. The annoying yap of the wiener dog brought me back to myself. Shrugging I turned and went to the back of the car, and grabbed my suitcase. We had to punch in a code on the garage to open the door and get past the fence that the previous owner has set up. Behind the rotting wood, that now separated me from the driveway, there was another patch of lawn with some trees growing in the back corner. There was a concrete walkway, that I was now standing on, which connected the garage to the wooden stairway that lead to the door. Dad unlocked the door and lead me inside. I was standing in a laundry room with a fridge and a dog pen. I walked into a dining room with a large grand father clock, came from the old house, and a new table set for six. He lead me past a small kitchen with white walls and a wooden floor. We walked down a small hallway to a flight of stairs. Pictures of my stepsisters cover the wall to my left until we came to the top of the flight. A white carpet covered the floor of the hallway that I proceeded down. Taking a right, my Dad lead me to a small room with a one person bed. I set my suitcase down next to the dresser on my left which held a TV and pictures. My Dad left with a few words and I set my phone and wallet on the night stand that had a lamp and a clock. Then I collapsed on the soft bed, with way to many throw pillows, tired from the day of flying. My eyes drooped and I drifted in to a deep sleep.
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