The World is your Stage

I went for a walk in the rain today. I haven't done that in forever.  I decided that I needed to get out of the house...staying inside is making me stir crazy.  I need to find friends (other than Jessie) to spend time with. I need to find someone (other than Aaron) to cry to.  As I was walking, I went down Birch street, just to see all the changes.  There are so many things that are different in this town...so many memories I don't want to let go of.  So many promises broken, so many lives changed.  So many things that I feel would be better off forgotten.

I remember that as a kid, my favorite three people were my neighbors, Dave and Donna, the man at the post office, Chris.  Dave would always talk to me, and we'd laugh. I was allowed to use his porch to play tag, hide and seek, whatever may be.  Dave's dad, Emil, was also very kind to me. He used to let me into the garden, which I swear was the most beautiful garden I had ever seen in my life. I used to stand at the gate and talk to him, and it always reminded me of Wilson from Home Improvement. Donna's dad, Steve, was a master craftsman. He made the quilt frame in my mom's sewing room.  Steve also had a little yorkie. I can't remember the dog's name for the life of me, but I remember it was a girl (was it Izzy?).  Steve and Emil both passed on. Donna still lives there, I believe, but Dave doesn't.

Chris was my best friend out of all the adults.  He was so childish.  Amanda and I used to sit outside the post office and talk with him while he was on his lunch break.  He'd give us candy every day, because my mom used to make cookies for the mail carriers on Christmas.  Chris used to tell Amanda and I the whole "Sticks and Stones" theory.  Too bad words hurt more than anything thrown at me. He moved to Hazleton...I haven't seen him since.

Between the two extremes was my old house.  I spent fourteen years of my life in that house. I remember laying the tile in the dining room. I remember renovating the bathroom (which had no door, incidentally). I remember the hard work my mom and I put into the gardens out back.  I look at it now and it doesn't look nearly the same.  There is no dog running around in the yard...there is no bike out front...there is no garden out back. There's just the new family that lives there.  There is no more memories for me there.

Across the street are two houses. One belonged to Brittnie,  one of my best friends growing up.  When she moved out, Renee moved in.  Next door was where the Monser's lived.  That family housed my first crush, Jake. And yes, though the family was very...obscure, I still had the biggest crush on Jake.

To the right of the houses was a store called "Nittles Hardware"...I remember I used to run in there every time I had money, just to buy things I thought were cool.  Now it's a parking lot for Marco's, which is a restaurant we used to bring fresh herbs to when I was a kid.

Going down the street a bit more is the old middle school. I can't even get started on how many memories I have there.  Mr Gravera feels good about himself...I know one, maybe two, of my readers would get that reference. =)

A little bit further than that was the library, which I'm not sure if it's still open or not. The last time I went there was in 10th grade.  I remember dancing the tango in the middle of the street with Michelle, during an epic snowstorm. I remember sitting there while it poured flakey whites onto the ground, laughing the whole time.

If you keep going, you'll cross Steve's old house. I remember sitting on his porch and doodling with sharpies, and then we had to re-paint the whole thing.  I also remember sitting on it, and my once-black jeans soon became white.

I remember all the heartache and sorrow accompanied to this town. I remember all the good and fun times. I remember playing manhunt with Pat, Tom, Aaron, and Steve...I remember how we used to hide up on the church steps. I remember how we used to play tag that spanned two blocks. I remember people before they were drug addicts.  I remember when buildings still existed. I remember when it was still okay to bring Barbies to school.

That's what makes this town so special to me.

Someone asked me why I came back here, even though I had the chance to live in California.

I came back because this is who I am. But the problem with living here is that I let myself get washed into the water and warn away by the sands of time.  I let myself get caught up in the moment, and I forget who I am.  I talk about what it used to be like, who I used to know, where the time has gone.  But that's the problem. Life goes on.  It continues to do that until there is no more time in the hour glass.  Life keeps on moving, and I stand still.  I don't want to let go of all the happiness I had. I don't want to move on and forget.

But you have to.  Because living isn't about staying in the past. It's about moving on and making your own memories. Life will constantly have memories, ones you'll want to remember and ones you'll forget as soon as they happen. Cest La Vie! Carpe Diem! Life is going to continue to move, and if you don't move with it, you get left behind.

Guess I should start catching up, huh?