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Point Reyes National seashore with Lo-Wha

Back to Berkeley

Chapter 10

Winslow, Arizona, 6:13 p.m. Eight dollars, a tank of gas, and 500 miles to Indian Wells Valley, where my parents live in the high California desert. We’ll get there tomorrow. 

After a few days of helping Mom and Dad with odd jobs around the house and filling them in on the relatives in New England, it’s back to Berkeley and 3005 Fulton Street. 

The front door, of course, remains unlocked at 1:30 in the morning when Dido and I get there. I don’t think anyone even has a key. We crash on the couch for the rest of the night. And yes, I finally admit to having adopted Berkeley as my hometown. Lived there longer than anywhere else, it seems. 

Next morning Esther greets me in the kitchen.
“Hi, guy, was it a nice trip?  I missed you.” 
Her dovelike eyes, long flowing hair, mischievous happy smile, and warm embrace make this body feel, Oh yes, I'm home again.

These photos not in the book.

My very best friend, 1970. Point Reyes
Seashore. Breaking up is never easy.

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