Saturday, October 27, 2012


I don't see things the way most people do.

I experience life in a movie scene of flashbacks. When other people see street signs and landmarks, I see the time my roommate and I picked up ingredients for chocolate chip cookies at a 24-hr grocery store at 10PM and spent the night laughing about life with friends. I see memories made with people that are no longer here.

I experience through emotion, not vision. I remember how I felt all those late night drive homes. I remember the sense of freedom I felt when I first came here; that warm night at Grover Beach for a bonfire, with that feeling of anticipation and the knowledge that my life was about to start. I even remember how I felt the last couple of months in town, impatiently expectant for my life to start.

I miss those days, and I miss those people. I'm not sure if it's a comfort thing, but I miss waking up to the sunlight streaming through my window, hearing my roommates puttering around, deciding which of my favorite places to eat at around town and who I wanted to hang out with that day.

I miss the ease with which I lived in community and the joy I felt when I got to walk around downtown on a bright, sunshiney morning.

I'm not sure if it's a comfort thing, but every time I come back here, it feels like a grand homecoming.