Restless Things

Nostalgia

It's true I don't really have any particular home to go back to, any particular house that sheltered my childhood, but that town built me.

When I go back there I see those cracked sidewalks and remember the time Shanza and I walked down them barefoot and the hot summer concrete burned my feet. Or the autumn mornings Elise and I rode our bikes to school. And when I see Firehouse Bistro, I remember when it was just a cafe and Elise and I would get hot chocolate or coffee when it was raining or foggy outside. I got my first real job there. The last I saw, it was boarded up.

I pass by that sushi restaurant on N 1st Street and remember when Favio, Elise, and I ate there and I choked on a piece of sushi and the odd sound I made made us all laugh until we cried.

I see the Cottage Exchange on the other side of the street and think about all the times I saved up just enough money to buy candles there. And there were these glass chopsticks I really wanted and kept saving up for. I'd go in from time to time, just to make sure they were still there. I never got those chopsticks.

There's this bench in front of the salon next to that shop that Steffan and I sat on one summer night. It was the first time we stayed out so late, that summer before senior year. It was so cold but we stayed sitting there because neither of us wanted to go home yet. I loved the lights they'd hang up around the trees and light posts and we'd sit there looking at them. That was also the first night we held hands (in the park by the elementary school). I was so nervous my hands were sweating. We'd stay up way too late on the phone for way too long talking about nothing. I'd skip 6th period just to hang out with him. And he'd be late to zero, just to have breakfast with Favio and me.

Every time I pass by Walmart I think of the time Cherese and I walked there from the orchards on the other side of Dixon, across the I-80. By the time we got there, we could barely walk. We had to be picked up to make it home. I've known Cherese since 7th grade, since we were 12 and 11 years old, and I'll know her until the day I die.

I remember Leah and I driving down the back roads maybe a little too fast and listening to our music maybe a little too loud.

I remember when Elise stayed the night at my house New Years eve and we tried to walk to walmart but ended up making a circle back to Safeway. I spent almost everyday with her. She's married and has a kid now.

Favio and I would walk those streets of Dixon too, on late afternoons with nothing better to do. We'd both sing along to Adele in my car while it rained outside and talk about stuff I'd never tell anyone else. We'd be late to zero period so that he could buy me breakfast. I think of him and those rainy afternoons every time Adele comes on. I can't listen to "Chasing Pavements" without missing him.

On North Jefferson St. across from the police department, you'll find a pole leaning sideways. I hit that pole with my car when my dad was teaching me how to drive, when I was 16. Under the strict scrutiny of my dad I had panicked and hit the gas instead of the break. At times I wonder if that pole is still there, leaning over.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm still there; if maybe I'll find myself there, walking along those cracked sidewalks, or perhaps sitting behind a boarded up window of Firehouse Bistro, drinking coffee, or maybe behind the creaky door of the Cottage Exchange. Or I'll stumble upon myself in that park where Steff grabbed my hand and I'll wonder where I've been, or why its taken me so long to get back to me.

I've learned that time does this funny little trick where it changes everything. It's the hardest lesson you learn as an adult.