Let Me Show You the Shape of My Heart
I loved my childhood. It wasn't perfect. I didn't always get along with my siblings or my grandma (who lived with us from the time we were really young until Dad got remarried when I was 14), and the start of it was not ideal. I don't remember much about that part of it, but I've heard stories. Not that I was mistreated or anything. As far as I know, we were always loved and wanted. But there was some drama between my parents, so as far back as I can remember, I've never known them together. I never felt the loss or any hope that they might get together.
Maybe I did, and I just don't remember. So that I don't have to say something like that every time I say anything, let's just assume that what I write may not be fact, but it is how I remember it. If any of the (older) adults in my life want to contest something, feel free.
I had two houses growing up. I had Dad's house and Mom's house. Both changed location a few times, but that's what they were. Whenever I think of Dad's house, I don't think of the house we rented on Loretto or the house he lives in now. I think of the house on Aladdin with its massive living room, the tree right out front, and bike rides to the store down the street. Or I think of the apartments right there on San Jose, perfect in its contradictory seclusion.
I think of the movie theater in the shopping center with the Walmart, that isn't there anymore, but I can still picture it. We saw the Matrix there, and that was a big deal back then. My brother and dad were so excited to see that, and so were we. I still have our ticket stubs from that and a few other movies, though they don't look anything like the ones you get now. We watched a Lara Croft movie there, too. I don't remember which one, but I remember how much we all wanted to see it.
Thinking about the old movie theater feels like remembering family. Maybe that's what I love so much about it: we were so together there. I might have fought with Katy pretty much nonstop, Matt may have been a jerk, chasing us around with crutches, and Dad may have been at work a lot, but I feel like that time in our lives is when we were the most family we've ever been. They might disagree with me. But now we're scattered, two of us here, two of us there, and one of us halfway across the nation. I can't help wishing I had us back.
The movie theater we used to go to when I was a kid is one of my favorite childhood places. Thinking about it makes me a weird mixture of happy and sad. Another place I just thought of that was and isn't anymore: the Cold Stone Creamery right next to Barnes & Noble. And the Burger King that was the last turn before getting onto the highway. And Mandarin Mill, probably the quintessential Mandarin landmark, recently closed after something like 20 years being in business.
I still drive through sometimes, excited to see things from back then, and, honestly, weirded out when I see changes. Man, it's a lot busier than it used to be. Maybe I just feel that way because I was never the one driving. Mandarin in general is a place I'll always associate with being young and free.
This is the first in a series. I've had this idea on my phone for a while, and I feel like reminiscing, so you get to witness and, hopefully, enjoy it. As for the videos that I've fallen behind on, for these posts, those will be reminiscent, too, and I'll share the story I associate with each song. For this week, it'll be Stephanie, one of my best friends from the fifth grade, sharing her favorite song with me on the way to somewhere with her mom.
I wish I could tell you everything. But you'll have to wait until next time.
Maybe I did, and I just don't remember. So that I don't have to say something like that every time I say anything, let's just assume that what I write may not be fact, but it is how I remember it. If any of the (older) adults in my life want to contest something, feel free.
I had two houses growing up. I had Dad's house and Mom's house. Both changed location a few times, but that's what they were. Whenever I think of Dad's house, I don't think of the house we rented on Loretto or the house he lives in now. I think of the house on Aladdin with its massive living room, the tree right out front, and bike rides to the store down the street. Or I think of the apartments right there on San Jose, perfect in its contradictory seclusion.
I think of the movie theater in the shopping center with the Walmart, that isn't there anymore, but I can still picture it. We saw the Matrix there, and that was a big deal back then. My brother and dad were so excited to see that, and so were we. I still have our ticket stubs from that and a few other movies, though they don't look anything like the ones you get now. We watched a Lara Croft movie there, too. I don't remember which one, but I remember how much we all wanted to see it.
Thinking about the old movie theater feels like remembering family. Maybe that's what I love so much about it: we were so together there. I might have fought with Katy pretty much nonstop, Matt may have been a jerk, chasing us around with crutches, and Dad may have been at work a lot, but I feel like that time in our lives is when we were the most family we've ever been. They might disagree with me. But now we're scattered, two of us here, two of us there, and one of us halfway across the nation. I can't help wishing I had us back.
The movie theater we used to go to when I was a kid is one of my favorite childhood places. Thinking about it makes me a weird mixture of happy and sad. Another place I just thought of that was and isn't anymore: the Cold Stone Creamery right next to Barnes & Noble. And the Burger King that was the last turn before getting onto the highway. And Mandarin Mill, probably the quintessential Mandarin landmark, recently closed after something like 20 years being in business.
I still drive through sometimes, excited to see things from back then, and, honestly, weirded out when I see changes. Man, it's a lot busier than it used to be. Maybe I just feel that way because I was never the one driving. Mandarin in general is a place I'll always associate with being young and free.
This is the first in a series. I've had this idea on my phone for a while, and I feel like reminiscing, so you get to witness and, hopefully, enjoy it. As for the videos that I've fallen behind on, for these posts, those will be reminiscent, too, and I'll share the story I associate with each song. For this week, it'll be Stephanie, one of my best friends from the fifth grade, sharing her favorite song with me on the way to somewhere with her mom.
I wish I could tell you everything. But you'll have to wait until next time.
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