For years, I saw my aunt and Granny most weekends.
Thus I knew from a young age that people were different. I could see it in my relatives, to start with. Mom's parents lived together, Dad's parents did not.
My grandmother lived with her descendants instead: Granny, her daughter, and her daughter's daughters, plus one of her grandsons. Grandpa Zanoni had had many strokes, so by the time I knew him, he lived in a nursing home.
Dad's sister, who passed away a month ago, lived for much of my life in Granny's house. At least that was how it appeared to me. After Granny died [when I was almost sixteen], it became my aunt's house.
We all learn more layers as we grow up, eh?
I shall divert to two weeks ago, on Sunday, when I'd planned to attend the Readercon Skype. Instead, there was Project Stairs. My folks came over, we demolished the back steps, then assembled the new steps.
I'd made a list of ideal steps and current steps, and Dad went with the first. This means we have 2/3 of the previous stairs, since I thought having steps just under the sliding door would be optimal.