![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO4uvL7Uex_RRwKXxZXodheHZk6AvwiMTX0bCvUmIMKv-RYAaN8vfKH0O1DaPlXfhtUT8z1y_k2qC5pNCSLLJjVxXYt5FSwmhrBV0O-QeCbNidK0yyXEAk6oD1VADb03Ss8l6oGhAsJ3k/s200/keys+1.jpg)
I do not know what all the keys are for, though Dad has told me on our tours of the important hiding places for documents, valuables etc. I have been thinking about what makes a home, what we surrender it with the keys and also the redundancy of objects removed from their purpose - old keys, clock hands, old toys etc. Behind the keys is a census for 1962, the year we moved in to our first home.
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