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adding, subtracting, and spacing

Math is something that I can't get away from in my family.
My mom was a math major in college.
My brother got an almost perfect score on the math section on the SAT, and got a perfect score in his ACT.
We did trig on a table cloth in Paris while waiting for the check.

Math in design is a timeless thing. While in Europe, we had to find ways to take pictures of trees, hundres of years old, that were planed in parallel rows. Parallel rows of trees, like the beams on the bridge or light posts or a canopy that's natural but planned all at once. While the design is so simple, it creates an order that makes a room where there wasn't one before, a corridor in the middle of a garden. I have pictures, many of them, because my mom was obsessed with the parallel rows of trees, that whenever we saw them we had to take pictures. But, alas, they are in Wisconsin, and I don't want to steal someone else's creative image from the internet.

But instead of design, that math isn't very important right now.
Speaking in subtraction, I went home for the first time since I've been away at college. For a memorial service. My psychologist, who essentially helped raise me since I was 8, died in September and the memorial was this past weekend. There is still the same sense of loss. But not just losing her, there's a loss of what was home. The house is the same, except the porch is now a construction site, but that was expected. My room is the same. Everything is in its place, but I only use the bed. I'm a guest in the space that used to be my sanctuary and I'm not sure how to respond when I go home again for Thanksgiving.
In addition, I got a free and very large bean bag chair that's quite silver and has yet to find its proper place in my dorm room, where we now have 7 seating pieces in a double.