The House on Almahurst Row

10/31 of March challenge 

When I was little my grandparents owned a small house in La Jolla California. It was beautiful, was small and there were many like it, but at the time I was small. And it was one of the biggest, most unique places I’ve ever been. When thinking of this house, I have no choice but to resort to memories. When I was nine my grandmother passed away, and once she was gone my grandfather sold the house. When I think of the house, I remember countless days spent at the beach, more than one in the aquarium, and the small city nearby. I remember a restaurant where, if you sat outside they had fire pits the chairs were surrounding. Beaches, Fish, Towns, Fire Pits, Me. 

I remember one year we crashed into my old best friend, Molly. And we had dinner. I remember spending time riding around in a mini golf-cart. I remember thanksgivings and Hanukkah’s and many days that weren’t even holidays there. I remember the time I lost my two front teeth going down the stairs on a wheelie chair, which was scarier than my first roller coaster. Molly, Golf Carts, Holidays, Teeth, Me.

I remember Trader Joe’s, and the Wildlife Park, and a carefree place. I remember driving to LA to visit my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ray. Trader Joes, Wildlife, Carefree, LA, Me. 

I remember walking around book stores; I remember when my sister went to meet JK Rowling at a bookstore. I remember snails, and shells. Books, JK Rowling, Snails, Shells, Me. 

I remember Lego Land, and stray cats. I remember a place that was taken from me, I remember a place where I felt at home. Lego Land, Cats, Gone, Home, Me.