85TH

It all happened in the same place my dad taught me to kick a soccer ball, where I could leave my toys in the yard overnight, and leave doors open nonchalantly for the pets to roam. After confirming that she and my dad were safe, my sister Lizzy broke the news. The automobiles outside the home and valuables within were completely ransacked. The moment I saw that text changed my sense of security in the home that I’ve known for 22 years. My memories of the tight-knit and family-centered suburban community outside Seattle were tarnished.  This was the home my parents purchased shortly after my birth having rented for many years. They created a nest that my grandparents visited as my family settled in America from Mexico. 

​

​I began to face the fact that the memories of my childhood home didn’t reflect the decline of my neighborhood and the changes brought about by gentrification. While the affluent parts of our urban environment continue to grow physically and economically, my neighborhood feels forgotten.