It's not much, but it's everything to me. Photo: Robert Sanchez/Axios
Every summer, I'm drawn to the house that brought my family to Colorado.
It's a ranch-style in Aurora's Pheasant Run neighborhood, near East Quincy Avenue.
Why it matters: I spent half my childhood in Aurora, and memories of the people I met there continue to shape my life.
There's James, my old neighbor and friend of 45 years, who died two years ago.
And Roy Halladay, the legendary pitcher (check out The Merge, above), who lived nearby. He died in 2017.
Zoom in: Roy and I often played catch at the park near our houses during the summer. We'd hustle over, toss a hardball and listen to kids laughing and playing at the public pool.
Aurora, at least to me, means Little League games, bicycles, water-balloon fights, hot dogs and friends.
The big picture: I could write a book about my neighborhood's characters.
The dad with the Purple Heart from his service in Vietnam.
The mom who covered her sofas in plastic.
The bearded guy with oil under his fingernails who owned Studebakers in various states of disrepair.
What's next: I went back a couple weeks ago. I saw my house.
I drove to the park.
Just like those summers four decades ago, kids were splashing at the pool.
