A few words can put me in a place. She never mentions the word addiction.. out of the mouth of Kate Hudson's hairy ex-husband and I'm sitting on a school bus in a swimsuit and running shoes, paddle in my hand, looking out the window on Keeaumoku Street, where those beautiful monkeypod trees sit between Young and King, on the way down to paddling practice. I'm 14, and Brooke is sitting next to me.

A few bars of One by U2 and I'm on Sandy's road, heading to the beach at 3pm with Jenny in my mom's red saab, old enough to drive, but still a baby really. I still hear that song on that road all the time.

Dido's Thank You still plays every once in a while and I can feel the bump of wyatt in my belly in the Orinda days. When You Sleep by Cake has me back in El Cerrito, a few months after graduating from Berkeley, telling Ramsey about the "little problem" that appears to be growing in my uterus. We don't call him that anymore, for the record, even when he's problematic.

Stand by REM came on in Jamba Juice yesterday. I could almost see Haseena doing the Stand dance in the middle of Portlock Road between our two houses, while I laugh from my kitchen balcony.