Quite a few people have already died. Former friends, teachers, colleagues, family members. But I never know how much it’s going to affect me. When I heard my primary school teacher had died, I was overcome by a grief more powerful than I had thought possible.

256 Maple Lane is the thirty-seventh house on my list, and I swear, less than fifteen minutes ago, I didn’t think I was going to make it here. This neighborhood makes me feel like a Frankenstein doll mis-shelved in the Barbie dream world section.

The day I found the sewing machine was the day after my mother’s funeral, and the last time I was alone in my childhood home. Entering through the front door, I had a hard time coming to grips with the fact that in a few months this place would no longer belong to my family.