Some time late in 1988, early 1989 my parents and myself and my newborn brother lived in California out of Santa Barbara. We lived in a slightly old hotel, that, according to my mother, housed prostitutes and drug dealers.

My dad made a decent sum of money working as a contractor. He was often times given limo coupons and went to work in a limo. This must have seemed overly extravagant at times, especially to the people who worked under him. It was certainly unnecessary from my mother's point of view.

The next part of this story I have two accounts of, I'm not sure which one to believe, so I just take them both and chalk it up to a difference of opinion on my parent's part.

Mom's side of the story:

Mom claims now that we were poor. Despite the weekly paid hotel, Dad's contractor business and the limo rides, mom says that we were running out of money.

"We didn't have enough to afford baby formula for your brother." She claims. It was at some point that she packed everything up, and took off back to Colorado with my brother and me.

Dad's side of the story:

Dad says that we were doing fine. Sure we didn't live in the biggest house on Santa Monica Boulavard but that didn't mean we were poor. Dad worked hard for what we had and did his best to provide.

"You mother just wanted to be near her family." He claims. Over the years, and this is even in my experience, Mom has always been drawn back to Colorado and her family there.

What happens after that is unclear to me. Memory is a liquid painting that gradually changes over time. While the picture is still there, the details have changed. I remember being told tales of what happened afterward. I know that my dad became depressed after my mother left and his contractor business fell under.

Somehow my brother and I ended up in the custody of an aunt and uncle, Dad returned to try and take that custody from them. They even went to court over it. Apparently, my aunt and uncle were trying to gain legal guardianship over us, that is, adopt us. My dad didn't want that.

I'm not sure where Mom was at this time, or ever how she fits into the picture. I have a vague memory of a mention that she was in prison for a time. I'm not sure why, where, or even how, much less do I know if it is even fact.

Some time passed, my parents got back together and this time the four of us were living in an apartment complex in a place called Happy Canyon, Colorado. I think this was around 1990-91. I'm not terribly sure. My dad managed the complex and we lived in relative peace.

Happy Canyon is probably one of my favorite places, memory wise. I have some of my most fondest memories connected to the place. It's also the first place I have any significant amount of recognizable memories. Before that all I have are vague impressions and images. 

My brother and I had made friends with a twelve-year-old who lived a floor down and at the very end of the building complex we were in. I remember going over to her apartment and playing with dolls.

I also remember the guy named Mike who lived one apartment over from ours. He used to babysit us and would give us M&Ms whenever we would visit. We played digger knocker on him one day. It was funny, but I remember feeling bad after we did it.

I remember that Michael (my brother) and I would wander to the other side of the complex where an elderly couple would give us coloring books, crayons and (jokingly) offer us doggy biscuits. I think we loved to visit them on multiple occasions. I'm sad to think that they have probably long passed on by now.

I remember playing on the grassy grounds between one complex and another, Michael and I wold stub our toes all the time! We hid in the bushes and trees at the center of the courtyard and pretended to be wild animals. The old man on the other side of the courtyard would reprimand us if we looked like we would break the tree and bush limbs.

And finally I remember one night, we were all getting back from somewhere, I feel as if it was a party or a movie, I'm not sure. But I was dancing in circles and not looking where I was going and ended up falling down half a flight of stairs.

I vaguely remember the pool where I supposedly almost drowned, but it's only a feeling and no pictures.

I don't remember why we left Happy Canyon. Perhaps my parents had another split, I'm not sure. But I remember that somehow we ended up in a battered Woman's shelter. Now let me make something clear. My father has never raised a hand against my mother. I don't know why were at the shelter, perhaps my mom had nowhere else to go. Or maybe she truly did feel threatened by my dad. I'm not sure. It's all speculation from here.

I have many memories of this place as well. I first saw the movie Benji there. We ate watermelon on the swingset in the backyard. I remember telling my first big whopper there. But soon, that too came to an end.

I'm afraid at this point in time I have scattered memories and few stories. Since dad wasn't with us at the shelter only mom can tell me what occurred. But as I said earlier, she's not quite as forth coming. 
    
Soon we were living in town called Commerce City. It was another apartment complex, less expensive and full of people. It was just mom, Michael and me in the beginning. At this point in time my dad was traveling lots and was starting to develop into a freelance writer/journalist. I remember the first time he visited he brought back souvenirs from the Atlantic Ocean. Seashells, seaweed, sand, water, he let us touch some of it and told us a little about California. 

After that, he started living with us. He paid part of the rent, and we stayed like that for a long time.

I could go on and on with all the random memories that I have of that place, but that would be enormously erratic and unfortunately wouldn't have a very coherent narrative. The biggest thing that I recall about Commerce City was playing with by friends. One of the girls that I knew in the complex was named Cindy. My brother used to make a joke that her name was Cindy because she sinned. It used to make me so mad. Also, the boy who I probably had my first crush on lived there as well. I'm struggling to remember his name now, which is weird to me. It was Zack or Jake or something like that. We used to go and play with him all the time.

The next thing is that I have one of my happiest memories there. My mom woke my brother and I one morning and sang and danced with us while she cleaned. We had these little sleeping bags and we would get in them and Mom would swing us around and everyone would laugh. I remember the sunlight streaming through the windows and the living room was all yellow with warm light. I think back to that and feel my heart smile.

It wasn't long however before my parents began to fight again. Something happened, I don't remember what, and my dad ended up throwing a radio onto the floor. My mom called the police and had dad arrested for destruction of property. After dad was let out of prison mom decided to move again and we left Commerce City and Dad behind once again.

Thus we began living at a townhouse complex in Wheat Ridge. My mom was working at the PBS stating in downtown Denver at this time so we were often babysat by this young couple who lived across the street. My brother and I didn't like them too much. They had kids of their own and quite often cared for their kids before they cared for us. I guess that's what parents do, care for their own above others, but Michael and I didn't like it at all.

We thought it fortunate that they would let us stay at our house during the day and watch TV. In fact, one day we even used that as an opportunity and snuck out. It happened like this:  My brother and I were sitting in our living room watching TV, I think it was the Simpson's, but then we heard a knock at the door. It was our babysitter's husband, who we will call Daren for simplicity's sake. He was obviously coming to check up on us. I peeked out the door and saw him try to open the door, which was locked. Michael and I sat completely still in the living room until we saw his shadow disappear. We laughed at our cleverness and proceded to contiue watching TV, until...  Daren had apparently decided to come around to the back porch where the sliding door opened up into the kitchen. Daren slid the door open and my brother and I scampered up the stairs to the bathroom where the window allowed acess to the over hang that covered the porch and the porches of our neighbors. We crawled down a high fence that flanked the edge of the over hang and ran the three blocks to the little park with a sandbox and swingset. We hid in the sand box for almost a half an hour until we saw our mom's car driving down the street.

To say the least, mom was pissed. I guess mom couldn't quite handle our running away very well, and it wasn't much long after that when our Dad showed up. He comandeered one of the three rooms in the townhouse. My brother and I shared a bunk bed in the middle size room, my mom had the master bedroom and dad took the smallest room that mom had been using as place to store laundry after it came out of the washer and dryer and she didn't have time to fold them.

I think we spent a good amount of time there. I remember birthdays and playing with friends and wandering around the neighborhood. I think this is one of the happiest overall times of my life. When my parents were getting along in this place, it was great. Eventually, I don't know what prompted it, but when I was around 10-years-old dad helped us pack some things up while mom was at work. We put our things in his Lincoln towncar and with an old tape playing Ernest Tubb we started driving. We were going to begin the journey that would define the rest of my life. My transition from childhood to adolecense was about to begin.