_hotos by hannah cairns
The Burlingame house is for sale while a family still lives in it. Parts of it are staged as upscale, but the bedrooms are cluttered. You are initially welcomed by a realtor, and you tell him that you lived here in 1972, then you leave. Your mother is in the neighborhood; she's run off to find a roll of candy vitamins.
The living room is a grotto, which is kind of charming, you guess. The middle-aged lady of the house takes you back into the rest of the place, which also has been totally transformed. It's still small, but the rooms are re-imagined. On the way out to the garage and backyard, you notice a bath tub on the right. You think it was put in by Roger.
You tell the current occupant how much you used to love the backyard. The way around an outside corner is precarious, and it scares you. It seems like there is a steep drop off, where there was none before. Your mother is not afraid. You make it back there, and it is a 3rd world suburbia mess of kids, abandoned pizzas and junk food, RV noise. Like going to a densely populated family camping spot. This was once a beautiful, quiet, empty expanse of backyard, with open land beyond it. The road had not been visible, just faintly heard in the distance because in the early 70's, highway 280 had just been opened.
photos by Hannah Cairns