832

I grew up in one house. It was, and remains, a great house. When I go back home it's still the home. Signs of how it crafted us are everywhere. Its foundation is my foundation. Its number was 832.

Nowadays seeing 832 fills me with warm, comforting feelings. The number almost has a smell. I love finding it randomly, like in hotel hallways and receipt subtotals and on digital clockfaces. 

In a world that (I can't verify but) I think is getting more stressful by the millisecond, 832 makes me happy. It's so simple and silly. It's nonsense.

I'll take it.