Vacation - Locust Lane - Deep Like the Ocean
It was like a week ago, shit, actually it has almost been two weeks now. The cruise control on the Corolla hadn’t seen this many miles and our bodies sought the relief and comfort of our own beds that harbored the warmth of our significant somebodies. We were like nobodies in a neighborhood where strangers are few and far between. Most of whom are probably just lost. Not us though, we were at the right place. The trip itself reminded me of how when a friend calls to hang out you just say “yeah dude, I’m on my way.” Only when we said we were on our way we thought it okay to drive 2400 miles to “just hang out.” It was certainly a whole lot easier when we were kids living in the same neighborhood. From the age of 6 to somewhere around early high school my best friend lived on the same block, right around the corner, half a block east and half a block south. For the first several years I would cut through the backyard to get to his place, avoiding the home that housed the doberman, a conditioned fear, sure, but it just looked hungry for kids. Sometimes before hanging up the phone after getting confirmation for a hang out session I would have him time how fast I could get there. I loved running. I still do, I just haven’t been able to squeeze in the time for it lately. Anyway, I would run as fast as I could through four backyards and a cul-de-sac turning sharply at his yard to make it to his front door. He would usually be waiting with some kind of snack in hand, no stop watch, not counting, just waiting and snacking. It didn’t stop me from trying though. I could have only hoped to be taking stats on my speed, but it didn’t really matter we had the woods to get to, bikes to ride, wrist rockets to shoot, baseball to play, cards to trade, crawfish to catch, forts to build, roofs to climb onto and talk about how so-and-so sucked or “like wouldn’t it be awesome if…”. We don’t do any of those things anymore. In fact I couldn’t even tell you where he lives now. He’s certainly not two half blocks away(yeah the math equals one, but it is two halves, pipe it). His mom used do her bus route, then swing back for us and our sisters. Just the four of us on a big ass yellow bus. // I learned how to swim when I was 5 at the deep end of the pool. I peed in there several times. It didn’t seem wrong or gross, still I am not proud of it. It is just something I did, and depending on where I am now I might just shamelessly do it again. Ten years later, with little to no interest for swimming in public pools, specifically the one I used to pee in, I would visit there weekly on Sundays to get a slush and a large bag of popcorn. Perhaps all those days of visiting contributed to my sickening love for popcorn today. It quite literally fucks me up for a day. During those days I was probably just being a lonely teenage sap, not knowing where his friends were hanging out at due to being at work after school everyday while everyone else hung out. The comfort of sitting at the park, icy flavored beverage in one hand over-salted popcorn in the other, was enough to get me by that summer. I didn’t journal or make art or whatever back then, I just reflected. I still work a lot as I am in the deep end of a different pool… the debt pool. And most of the time I feel like I have to offer friends and family is when I am exhausted and partially there. I haven’t won the lotto, but I also don’t play. So yeah, we drove, once again the three of us to just go hang out, and try to forget about being tired, overworked and broke. It is a beautiful thing, the road, the talks, and the Spanish moss. // 14 hours at the tail end here, feels like a roadtrip.