I am from evergreens and cutting down Christmas trees in the backyard and carrying twice my age of firewood up the stairs.

I am from bunk beds and sleigh beds.

I am from the California of snow and mountains and desert summers and Tinkerbell Lane.

Even when I don’t close my eyes at 4:30 p.m., I am from the town of Odyssey and the ice cream shop they call Whit’s End. The old man with the mustache, the young man with the glasses, the girl with the green sweater who is the last to know everything...