My mom once sold tickets to allow neighborhood kids to watch my father plunge to his death.
My parents don’t usually share the story of how they first met because I’m sure they don’t remember.
Their worlds never existed without the other being there in the background, waiting in the wings.
My dad, Brian, lived in an ordinary, Wonder Years home in Eagle Estates in central Long Island, New York.
My mom, a year older, lived in an ordinary, middle-class home two houses down.