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Eyrie Drive: The first apartment my mother and I lived in, perched on this street above the New Jersey side of New York Harbor, in Atlantic Highlands. I remember them building bulkheads to shore up the cliffside, and that our neighbors had such bad erosion that there was a gap with a severe drop between their back door and back deck.

The apartment, which we called the Eagle’s Nest, was slate grey outside, but all I remember about inside was a sense of cozy safety and a really big bathroom, and making sand candles.

And the eerie sound of foghorns, but that’s for another entry.