Falling in Love as a Six-Year-Old, With California
A prompt response for The Brain is a Noodle
We lived near Disneyland, in Anaheim, CA, in the days when the region was known as “smog-free Orange County.”
My parents called our first place “the rat hole apartment” but I loved it. We had moved there from frigid upstate New York.
Every day was an adventure, an outdoor delight, in the always present California sun. I was the oldest of three, the stealthy wild man, the ringleader.
My aunt had “taught” me how to swim by throwing me into a hotel pool in Arizona, one of our stops as we drove across the country.
I captured lizards and kept them as pets. Skulked around the neighborhood as the spymaster that I was. Did mildly mischievous acts on a daily basis, and never got caught.
Then slept nightmare-free nightly like a little angel.
It cost about $2 to get into Disneyland.
How could you not love all that?
Thank you Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她)
