An excerpt from the latest post: "I spent the first seven years of my life in Los Angeles, in a little gray house on a tree-lined street called Cantaloupe Avenue. My memories of living there are hazy, dreamlike…there were rose bushes that lined our driveway (I’d rip the petals off and run them over with my bike, thinking that, surely, this was how perfume was made), and a mishmash of flora in the garden. Potted plants lined the front porch. One, my favorite, was a single pink flower in a tiny terracotta dish. Oddly enough, I remember this flower more vividly than most other physical details about that house, though its tenure on the porch couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of weeks. After having admired its impeccable posture, the elegant draping of its petals, and that irresistible rosy flush for what seemed like an eternity, I couldn’t help myself. I picked it."
Read the rest on the Equals Record, here. You can find past entries from my weekly column, Looking Forward (about the ups and downs of "growing up" in my twenties), here. Thank you so, so much for reading, as always.