Nostalgia

For the long weekend I ventured back to the house I spent a good chunk of time in whilst growing up. To see my Dad and have him meet a friend of mine. Everytime I go back there it seems a bit different. The house smells unfamiliar, the rooms smaller than I remember, and the people in this small town are arguably the same but older.

The weekend passed in a lovely, relaxing blur of cooking, hiking, drinking, and dancing with spurts of ufo convos (from my eccentric father). Towards the end of this speedy blast from the past I found all of my journals kept through my angsty adolescent years. Browsing through them absentmindedly I couldn't help but be thankful that I'm not 15 anymore. God, some of the crap I wrote down! I think at the time of writing the stuff I was worried about sounding like a "good kid" if someone accidentally read one of them so there's not a whole lot of "fucking bitch!" and whatnot in them. Boring vanilla. In the earlier ones.

There were some nice memories brought back, however. Especially on a trip through Holland (one of the later journos that was a bit more flavourful). I was getting high off hashish with a good friend and her buddies from the hopping town of Hoorn. We had ridden our bicycles over to a large dyk and then triapsed down the long pier jutting into a placid lake.

"Here." D handed me the joint. I took a toke and passed it on. After a while we were all a little giggly and spaced. I had never experienced this stuff before and was hit a bit hard. All of a sudden I felt like I could fall into the lake and had to get back onto land. On the dyk, D was walking with her arms held away from her body and shouting, "K! We're on a dyk! Hehehe We're walking on a dyk!" Then she fell and she screamed with laughter, "K! I'm lying on a dyk!" It's a silly memory but I love it. I miss D.