Look! It’s me! I wasn’t lying! Truly, it’s hard to believe, yes?
I am going to take you back in time, rewind the clock to December 2022. In some ways it seems like yesterday, but in others it feels like another lifetime. It was a special time for me because for the first time I was finally able to bring Erdem to California. Our original trip got canceled due to COVID etc etc… anyhow…
Growing up, I noticed I have favorite moments with my parents. Of course, there are many a stories where I am no-doubtably the star but oddly enough those aren’t the ones I cherish most. Sitting in the car looking at craftsman style homes perfectly placed underneath giant trees and steep driveways as my Mom would take the threads of her childhood memories and spin me a tale. A tale of nostalgia, where a smaller version of her was biking up a ridiculously steep mountain (NOT a hill) just to get to a school she hated or driving past St. Vincent High School only for the bits of air to swirl to a monochrome version of my 18 year old Dad right before he morphed to a kid with a skinned knee, rocks in hand running through the riverside looking for mischief. It’s the versions of themselves before I even existed that remain a stranger to me. It’s those versions of themselves the world got to know and love before I ever got a chance to. And that makes me a bit jealous. I have to admit.
Maybe it’s the reinventing of their past in my imagination I enjoy so much, more likely it’s that look in their eye as they remember a past version of themselves. When I was young I never realized that one day that might be me. Youth doesn’t allow for accurate foresight too often. Maybe the stories have softened over time, shifting just a smidge from the truth being dipped in some rosé as hindsight often lends to revisionist history. It’s the only story I know, so to me the revisionist historians are forgiven.
Now back to December, coming home after a long stretch of time is always a ride. There’s a lot of people to see there’s a laundry list of things you must do and an archive of memories to revisit and you cannot simply do it all. There’s just no way. You have to find balance between showing someone California for the fist time However, we did give it the old college try.
Showing someone your roots is a marvelous experience. Strutting the emptied campus of your high school, running up the stairs where you once sat on time out and eagerly avoiding all humans you may possibly know at the grocery store. Learning how to properly wave an American flag, wondering why in fact so many people have them all out all the time and finding out how many times can we possibly eat In-n-Out in a ten day span. There were BBQ’s, butter beer, dried out Christmas trees, cookie decorating contests, cocktails on the boardwalk and an endless rotation of cameos from my past lives coming to check out the Turkish delight.
We had only 48 hours in San Diego. Two days to show a decade of life. It’s not nearly enough but we took the scenic route, watching surfers jump from the cliffs to the ocean upon my favorite hiking routes. Sour beers, farmers markets, IPA’s, sushi that was better back then than it was now and playing on Sunset Cliffs. We visited old jaunts, cheers with classic friends and spun so many stories of the glory days I sounded a bit like Bruce Springsteen based that damn song off me.
There was something special in taking parts of my life, where I couldn’t even begin to envision what unfolded and sharing those places with the person I love. To sit at the bar where I once sat broken-hearted sure I was cursed for eternity, only to marvel at the sunset completely healed and whole trying to explain why exactly there’s always a crooked Christmas tree. And to do this, knowing I had friends drive across state lines, drop plans because of a last minute text. Friends made time so I could meet their little ones and go to dinner (where I ended up being sick nearly all night but Jenn has seen me worse), and made sure to hug me tight enough so I didn’t break but I understood how much we fucking missed each other. The amount of love, happiness and joy of visiting a place that has largely remained unchanged to see how you and your friends have grown. Damn that’s the stuff.
a wanderess tale 