One of my childhood homes was 161 Edgewood Avenue in San Francisco. I remember the protests when the TV tower went up, I remember the big kids smoking pot in Ishi's Cave, and I remember when my parent's friends forgot to engage the emergency brake on their car, and it rolled down the hill and crashed into a neighbor's fence. I remember the night it snowed (yes, it snowed), and I was too afraid to leave my room. I remember when my dog bit the little boy across the street, and when I sat on my rooftop and waited for Scott Jakes to walk by so I could throw things at him and call him names.
I remember the first day we moved in--I found a gate in our backyard that lead to the forest. I remember getting lost, and when I finally found my way back, I thought to myself, my backyard is a forest!
I remember the yellow teather ball and rusted pole, the bright eyed raccoons at night, the smell of skunk, the red brick road, and the sour taste of plums picked from the trees on my way home from school.