Of all the reasons to blame my parents, I blame them most for moving. My mother from Paris to San Francisco in 1968, my father four years later with my mother and their cat Charlie from San Francisco to the small mountain town in Northern California where he was born. It feels like they gave away my inheritance: how to navigate the Metro, the best Italian restaurant in North Beach, the fog. I can’t stop thinking how much more interesting a person I’d be if they just stayed put.