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.
2 comments:
Your writing style has gotten so much better recently. It's much more fluid, and much more passionate and descriptive while using less words than before. It was amazing to read.
If this is the day that mom's food had those dead fruit flies in it, then I remember it, too. And like you, that little corner of California set the standard for what I wanted life to be like when I got older. I still think about it from time to time.
Funny thing about Sausalito by the way. Remember that girl Mary Jane that I used to talk to online all the time back in the day? She used to tell me stories of how she loved going down there to hang out and enjoy the sea and the air and the atmosphere. I would just sit and listen to her for hours. She had such a passion for it, and relayed her stories in much the same way as you did here.
I miss her. :(
WOW thank you, it means a lot to me that you notice that. I've definitely been trying to trim the syntax fat in my writing these days. I got some really helpful criticism from an editor I submitted some stuff to some time ago & I've been making a sincere effort to apply it whenever possible. So again, hearing your input is valuable to me :)
& yeah, that's the time. I was really surprised that you remembered that. & also surprised that Mom DOESN'T.
I also remember that girl you're talking about. She seemed really cool. I remember that time we all talked in a chat room for like an hour or something. That was hella funny.
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