This was the best apartment ever. We lived there until we discovered that Josephine was on her way. It has the most beautiful park outside, and it was close to everything: Peet's coffee and Park street (toy safari-- the greatest toy store in the world), and Trader Joe's was in the other direction.

We had the best neighbors, too. Our down stairs neighbors were musicians, and they would play the loveliest cello ever, and often she played with a trio. And you know how sound is amplified when it passs through walls? It was glorious, to look out the great bay windows during The Beautiful time, and the cello would seep up, rising through the floor.

And we had kids in the building, downstairs and next door--so we had building friends for the kids.

When the family that owned the building put it up for sale we mourned, and ached a bit, because we always stated that when they sold it someday we would buy it, because it was so perfect and lovely. Except it was too small; barely a 2 bedroom with the second bedroom basically fitting a bed for the boys and a dresser.

I miss Alameda now, and the whole beautiful bay. And the air, the way the sea would marry the air and make me want to run down to the sand on the bay, and sink my teeth into the rocks, crying out like the sea birds.

But I miss that apartment the most. It was the most 'home' of anyplace I've lived since, well, since my parent's home, I guess.