Have you ever thought about where you would like to have your cancer? No! I don’t mean which part of the body (I think we’d all choose one that was easily diagnosed and treatable, right?) I mean, where you would like to be living at the time.
Nearly 10 years ago, I came to Los Alamos not knowing anyone. I couldn’t get a work permit, so I couldn’t find friends that way and everyone else my age had babies. I knew nothing about babies then and so I couldn’t relate to sick-up or green poopy stories (yes blueberries do that to toddlers, just in case you didn’t know). Then a wishing star must have fallen my way, because the Hilltappers adopted me as one of their own. I have to point out, by the way, that I’m not a senior, even if my photo leads you to believe otherwise.
It was at that moment that I started to learn about the people of Los Alamos. I went from no friends to a handful of adoptive grandparents. They spoiled me, made me feel special and had the biggest hearts I’d ever known. I thought it must just be tap dancing grandma’s who were like this, but over the years it’s been a joy to find out that everyone in Los Alamos, who I have come to call a friend, is the same.
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