I have never felt connected to Phoenix, let alone Arizona. With seat belt buckle burns and cactuses like weeds, what exactly are we defined by? Sun burns? Heat strokes? It is difficult to feel fond of a city attempting to scorch your feet with oven top pavement. Even so, Phoenix and my tiny cul-de-sac have helped develop everything that I am, and everything that I’m not. My cul-de-sac consists of five houses, four dogs, and four families I’ve grown up with. Every December we dot our sidewalks with luminarias; every Christmas Eve we meet in the center of our circle to breathe frosted breaths and watch the candles fade one by one. We’re a community. We babysit pets and greet on the sidewalk, and now I can’t imagine living in a neighborhood where