It’s Wednesday morning, and there’s a man in my kitchen. I’m usually home alone until about noon, but today is different, because Sal has come to patch up something like 60 divots and gouges throughout our recently renovated house. We were not attacked by starving woodland animals, nor was this the result of drunk Christmas tree decorating or anything to do with the resident 4-year-old. Let me explain.

In 2013, it was getting really hard for me to climb stairs. We lived on the second floor of an old Victorian in the Haight Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco. One flight up to our door, another flight up to our home. As my legs grew weaker, it became clear that we needed to move. But there we faced a different kind of challenge: finding an accessible place to live in San Francisco, city of hills, multi-story homes and steep staircases. We were still searching when I lost my stair climbing abilities entirely. Rob carried me up and down two flights, every day. Over and over.

Finally we found a home that fit our needs. Read More>