San Francisco, CA.
This photo may only be funny if you went to Brown University.
But if you did, you should know: This is a real thing.
I found it in a store in San Francisco, labelled as such.

Newport Beach, CA.
This house has so many treasures in it. For
example, the cork board wall, where traces of
my childhood can be found.

Exhibit A: my drawing of the “Cat Moster” [sic]
which I scientifically labelled a 50,000 lb animal.
I also wanted people to know how big he was——
a measurement I used my own hands to determine——
“9 pinkys” (as in pinky fingers) long.

Exhibit B: some of my old ribbons from swim team
summers. What I remember most about swim team
was that afterwards I was allowed to pick one
“healthy snack” and one candy from the shop
next to the pool. I regularly picked red vines,
a choice I am now perplexed by.

Newport Beach, CA.
This is a literal note that my mother actually left stuck
to the refrigerator door.

Newport Beach, CA.
There are only a handful of places on this planet where
I feel wholly at home. In each one of them, there are
specific nooks or objects that are sacred; talismans or
symbols that remind me: this is home. You are safe.
The blue and purple towel hanging on the towel rack in
the downstairs bathroom of my Nana’s house. This is
one of my most beloved.

Newport Beach, CA.
This is my Nana’s dresser. Those breathing tubes on the
near corner are new. But everything else has been there
for a long time. Including that photo. I can’t believe
they tricked me into wearing that outfit. I can’t believe
she kept and framed photographic evidence of it.