A Place to Call Home
After my parents moved into their new house, they kept refusing to let me see it ahead of time.
It wasn't until Labor Day that my mother, Gloria Grant, finally sent me the address, being all mysterious about it.
Mom: [Allie, come home, quick! This year, the five of us are spending our first Labor Day together in the new house.]
I hurried over with a box of pumpkin tarts in hand.
In the entryway, four pairs of custom-made slippers sat in a neat row. There was gray for my father, Martin Grant, and off-white for Mom. My older brother, Fred Grant, and my younger sister, Lily Grant, each had a pair too.
I looked down and searched for a long time before Mom finally dug a pair of disposable ho