#2 El Paso

I have two clear recollections of this time:

The smell of water coming out of the hose, combined with hr deliciously rough heat of the sidewalk under my feet and of two dogs: an Irish setter and a German Shepherd, walking on either side of me down the street as I toddled.  They kept watch and slept with me. When we moved on a year later - something to do with my dad un- covering stolen dynamite and weapons and a quick transfer to the Mississippi National Guard, the dogs do not come with us.

The clay dust will be a different colour red in Mississippi.

My mother will read _Salem's Lot_ with just me in the house and sleep will be far flung for days. 

I will leave with a faint scar in my hairline, the result of falling off a sofa bed too close to the edge. That will become an issue, my propensity for ledges, edges and the spaces in between.