Brentwood wasn’t just where I lived
It was everything
Long summers in my backyard
Socks dirty from playing in the dirt
Playing tag and going on adventures with my cousins
My front yard was a racetrack
Tires screeching
My go karts engine running
Hair going crazy like I was on a mission
Winters were different
The hill at the end of the Street
We would make our own sleds
Going down the hill dragging the sleds back up
Heavy breathing in the cold air
Fingers numb, nose red, repeating and repeating
Brentwood was my home
Home is a feeling,
And it was Brentwood the nostalgia, my childhood
