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Opal jumping over our tiny apartment patio's brick wall. We lived in our sweet little house on Elm Street for fifteen years, so our kids have only known those walls and corners, that teeny tiny kitchen, that fabulous neighborhood. And at the beginning of the year, we changed all that.   We moved out entirely to do renovations—to move and add walls and add a big window downstairs and also even add a bathroom—so that our residence would better accommodate us for the longer haul. Opal, who is twelve, Ruth, who is six, Jesse and myself (and our dog, cat and guinea pig), have been living in a 700-square-foot apartment for nearly five months while our house changes and evolves while under our noses and a mile down the road. Time here at our modest apartment dwelling will soon come to a close.    The apartment isn't the fanciest place, not a lot of green or a courtyard or anything. Our patio has a view of the parking lot. The entrance frequently smells like old puddles. But the whole

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