At 17, My Childhood Home Burned to the Ground

Hazy reflections of a Los Angeles native

Illustration: HifuMiyo

At 17, I watched my childhood home burn.

That’s not true. I didn’t even get the morbid satisfaction of watching the flames dance and lick the barn-red wooden walls of our 1952 ranch-style house—with its asymmetric facade, brick fireplace, oak bar, and sliding glass doors out to the backyard…