Over The Bridge And Worlds Away

When I was about nine years old, my parents started toying with the idea of moving to San Francisco, and we flew out for a few days to look at houses. I remember this tripso vividly, mostly because for a city girl growing up in a smallish apartment, the idea of a for-real house was almost too exciting to handle. I remember seeing a house with a looping driveway bordered by weeping willows; another one with a huge, wide-open field out back and an exercise pool on the deck; a third one with a S...