cupcakes as a bandaid

Today I thought about my aunt, who passed away when I was 13. She was part of my daily life until she left me unexpectedly, and only in recent years have I been able to sort through my feelings of grief and confusion over aspects of our time together. I searched for her street name on google, and her exact address was the first result. I clicked it and it led me to a realty site that included pictures of the inside of the house. It was so entirely different. So modern, so...representative of nothing. They painted over the knotty pine paneling and threw white crown molding into every corner. I know I shouldn't feel this way, as I have no say in it's ownership or aesthetics, but I feel almost nauseas at the thought of an interior decorator coming in and saying "oh no, no no, this is all wrong" and destroying all the beautiful history and the better part of my early memories. I have been looking through the photos over and over again-eyes red and puffy, cupcake in hand, band of horses on the record player.