Home of my heart


Thirty-six years and more in one house have to count for something. Here is where I went hiking in the woods across the street, spotted pheasants, was visited by raccoons, saw a mountain lion, and socialized with the neighbors’ cats and dogs.

The view across the Bay was another privilege. On a clear evening I could see the fireworks at Crissy Field in San Francisco, and I watched ships come in seemingly escorted by sailboats on blue water. My neighbors have been friends; we celebrated with block parties and our Neighborhood Association with its Nextdoor.com network endeavored to protect us from crime.

There was love in this house. The walls might tell you so.


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