My sister's room is off limits. Her carpet is pink and white and deep. Acrylic. She was allowed to choose it herself. My room is bigger, which I know, but never admit, is unfair, however my carpet is not as nice.

We are both upstairs, my sister and I. And our parents are downstairs. This is not analogy, it is architecture. We put stickers on our doors. No admittance. We don't mean it. We don't enforce it. It would not hold up in court.

Watkins Glen

I have a grainy photo of my father holding me aloft in a garden of water and stone.


Photos of My Mother

I have two photos of my mother.


The Dog

The Scottish bartender at my local cryptically cautioned me, "Dinna get your hopes up." The road we are on is less than 30 miles away from home, yet I am in completely unfamiliar territory. The paved road curves and ends at the base of a rounded mountain. Everywhere around my hometown are mountains and roads that stop because of them, and the Catskill State Park that exists either to protect the mountains or because of them. Regardless, the sight is beautiful, and from here only one mountain can be seen and we are driving into it.


The Front Yard (Information To Know)

Out front, in our quarter acre plot, we have a sassafras tree and a maple tree and bush that is hard to mow around.