As you ascend our stairs, the photos on the walls tell the story of our family. The photos from long ago (okay, ten years) show my husband and I, thinner, younger and surrounded by friends. They’re pictures of parties and festivals and debauchery – there’s a picture of my husband trying to eat the “Chest Mix” in my cleavage. Everyone’s always holding up a glass. There are pictures of weddings and christenings – family’s, friends’ and our own. There’s one wedding picture we have to take down because the couple’s divorced. There’s a photo of a friend I lost ten years ago. There are pictures of friends that grew apart.