On July 3rd , my grandparent’s home in Arkansas burned down. Firefighters and first responders from every neighboring town worked from 11PM to 6 AM, nonstop, to fight the flames, and we are endlessly grateful for their effort and sacrifice. Thankfully, the shed still stands, the last remnant of a house that held three generations of our family. This wasn’t just a house. My grandpa brought our entire family here, first from a small town in Mexico to California, then to Arkansas. This was the first home they ever lived in together, and it’s where three generations of memory, love, and laughter were built. Every one of the grandchildren grew up around this house, celebrated birthdays in it, played in the garden, gathered in the shed. When my grandpa passed away, we held his funeral right here. It wasn’t just family who came, it was the whole community, everyone who had ever known him, for what felt like a 10-day gathering. That’s the kind of place this was: where friends and family from...