Seven years and you can barely remember east and west, up and down. So you drive around, slowly, until things begin to come back: First, that feeling in your stomach when you see the ocean on the horizon. Next, your old street, where you spent one Fourth of July lighting fireworks and trying not to wake the neighbors. Then, into the elevator -- which still smells like the catering company on the second floor -- and up to the office with its blue carpet and pale walls.
No one is there, but you remember a time when everyone was.
You spend all weekend driving, walking, making sure things are still in the old places.
There is the hill you hiked up and down so many times to get to the beach. The street where you crashed your car into a parked El Camino. The store with the salt water taffy. The Burger King you went to at least five times in two days because they were giving away free fries. The tattoo parlor where you paid the apprentice $30 to ink a bird that matched your boyfriend's. (Note to self: Apprentice + matching tattoo + only $30 = Not smart, on so many levels.)
There is the humanities building, the ferry, Del Taco. Tippecanoe's, Alta, Ring Road. The lifeguard tower, the Goat Hill Tavern, the wig shop.
Everything the same, everything different.
2 comments
I remember the El Camino incident! :) Oh, those were the days! LOL! :) (Oh God, how frigging OLD do I sound?!) Was this Irvine? It's a bit depressing because when I go back to AZ, so much is gone! The restaurant dave and I went to on our first date was being demolished last time we were there! :( It's sad because all the college students now are missing out on a bunch of cool things that used to be there.
Sigh...can we go back again soon?
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