Dadchester

Disclaimer: I am a dad living in Westchester, New York. The names of all people, but not all places, have been changed to protect the innocent and me from the glares of my neighbors who are definitely not reading this blog. When I think about childhood, I think about waking up on Saturdays in the fall, still in my boxers. Brown, yellow, and orange leaf piles plastered to the end of the driveway. They're probably piling up at Highlands Middle School. The radiator is working, sort of, it's making a sound but the heat isn't emitting out the way it should. I lift the sheets, then the comforter off, and I glide across the wooden floors. Pictures of ancestors and relatives I don't know are hanging. Down the stairs, through the kitchen, and then back up the other set of stairs to the room my parents called the yoga room. The name was aspirational. No yoga was done, though there was a yoga mat in the room that collected dust. My brothers and I called it the television room.  Th...