currently listening to: crazy for you -slowdive
mom & dad had just made up after a long & laborious argument.
we went for a long drive, like we always ritualistically did after their makeup sex.
i know this, because this tradition has been passed down to me. snookms & i do it too. it's a release.
we drive. my brothers & i packed up in a red ford minivan with my mom & dad.
them, rejuvenated & full of fresh dreams for the future. my brothers & i? ... not so much. grown cold to the novice ideal of their reawakened hopes & dreams, we knew better. or at least thought we did.
there was a town, which caught my attention as we drove. it was exceptionally sunny. it held the essence of what i had imagined in my childhood while living in seattle. the charm i had sought out these many years, after having been whisked away on a ferry ride one foggy afternoon so many years passed. i was only 5 or 6. but i remember it like the traces of skin folding beneath the palms of my hand.
this town held that charm. it reawakened something i had forgotten about. hope existed again for that one afternoon & brought me beyond the rough adolescent years i had fought tooth & nail through until i could stand on my own without vodka sea legs or chronic laced stilts.
we drove on, through the town, the sea enveloping this quaint little village as if it were a long lost lover. i had to shield my eyes, (& my heart) from the sun's rays that reflected the ocean waves. piers & docks attached themselves to every abode. endless strips of markets & cafes & diners called out to me, begging to be explored.
apparently i wasn't the only one that day, because unceremoniously, my mom & dad decided to find parking. we were getting out. a walk maybe? we are led down a strip, on a crowded sidewalk. i hear the sound of hollowed footsteps as we walk clumsily down the wooden planked path to our questionable destination. i smell the sea, taste the salt of her in the air.
so many unfamiliar faces look at our non-traditional group of thugs. we don't fit in. we don't belong. but i do not care. black railing separates the "them" from the "us" as we pass by the onlookers of outdoor eateries. i look forward to the sea, where i belong.
but we take a sharp left, another uncustomary move. inconspicuous stone stairs lead us up to a balcony, well lit, with an absolutely breathtaking view of Her.
the railing is no longer black. & their is no longer an "us" or a "them". the sound of humanity raises in volume as i discover we are only one of the many other lucky contenders that have discovered this little niche.
& we are now on the same side. we all wish for the same thing.
my mom & dad are holding hands, whispering in each other's ears & smiling to each other in that secretive way that only lovers do. they see my brothers & i in the same way that i now see my own children, enjoying life & the simplicity of the many wondrous things in it.
they tell us they will be back, they are going to order some food & for us to find somewhere "nice" to sit. i look behind us & sure enough there is plenty of outdoor seating.
i choose, because i never choose. i usually always settle for whatever everyone else wants. because it makes me happy to see others happy. but never because i am complacent. i didn't learn complacency in that way until i was much, much older.
outdoor smoking is allowed, which i thankfully rejoice over since my parents let me smoke. i grab the astray set up for the table i chose & to my delight i find a roach the previous customers must have left behind. it was enough to get the four of us high, had i let my younger brothers smoke back then. but instead, i give my oldest brother a knowing nudge & pocket the treasure for later use before my parents could come back with our food.
