Hitting Home
When I was young, I remembered living in an old house. It was where my little brother first caught the chicken pox and then passed it on to me and my other younger brother. It was where I was forced to sit on a wooden chair and eat bananas, even though I’ve never been able to swallow one bite since my Gerber food days. It was where I lost my first goldfish, Fifi, and had to watch my mother lead the way – holding Fifi in a spoon –...






