To my little sister, T, who turned a corner yesterday. She is now 3-0! I hope she enjoys her thirties as much as I'm enjoying mine.

When my mother came to visit several weeks ago we drove by the apartment where my parents lived when I was first born in Evanston, just above a dry cleaners facility that has been there apparently thirty-three years. Then we drove by the park that had an old hollowed out fire truck set in the middle of the field as a jungle gym. My mother sounded gleeful as she told me how I used to crawl over and under the brick red vehicle and I tried to conjure memories of those moments. We drove by the old Methodist church and parsonage we lived in after the apartment and I do remember being terrified in that house; it was huge and old with a heavy gothic air about it. I remember arranging my toys in a circle around me as protection before going to sleep. I'm glad I saw my birthplace, it gives me a sense of coming full circle.