The rent house is but a memory, some good, some bad. It was a refuge for me and my rebellious 13 year old son, especially me after having lived 2-1/2 years in an apartment. Gone is the blackend vent-a-hood where the son learned not to leave grease on the stove unattended. Gone is the melted carpet from where he spilled the firey cooking oil as he carried the flaming pan to the back door. Gone but not forgotten is the 6 weeks that I spent with J.D. living in my travel trailer in the back yard prior to his moving back to L.R. Gone but not forgotten is the memory of the next door contractor calling City of Denton Code Enforcement on me because J.D. was driving through the next door house's yard to access said trailer. Gone but not forgotten is the travel trailer ruined by having J.D. live in it for 2-1/2 years whilst parked at my business and in my back yard. Gone but not forgotten is the memories of the marijuanna graffiti painted inside of it by James III and his rebellious friends after J.D. abandoned it. Gone but not forgotten are the memories of the cold March night in 1996 when James III decided he knew everything and that it was time for him to move onto the streets of Denton. Gone but not forgotten are the holes he knocked in the walls after he was put on probation by the juvenile court for being picked up by the law after curfew. Gone but not forgotten is the last visit from my mother and younger sister in June of 2000. Still there and living well is the beautiful purple Creape Myrtle that was just a twig, the size of my finger, purchased for $10. at the neighborhood Food Lion. Enough for now as it is late and time for me to go home