And now, summer finally feels like it's really here. Yesterday was Vicki's last day of school. So, at ten at night, she calls me, all distraught. She said she was going to come pick me up and we would go out to eat. It turns out, she got into a fight with her mom, and shit's going down at school too, so stuff was just really bad and she needed to get out. So we went to Denny's and then took a tour of my childhood.
When I was 9, there was this huge field out behind where we used to live. Me and my brother and his friend and sometimes my sister would go play baseball back there. We built forts and hung out back there. My brother used to start fires, just to piss off the Gibraltar police force (which consists of like three people). There were these hills we used to jump our bikes on. My sister and I used to play in the mud on rainy days, to the point that our clothes were unsalvagable. So, I went back there yesterday, and now my childhood memories are a subdivision. Memories torn down in the name of progress. America at its finest.
They covered up the ponds we used to go skating on in the winter. We used to have races and I used to take my headphones out there and skate to Mariah Carey and pretend I was in the Olympics. Now it's a big pile of dirt.
The playground we used to play on isn't there anymore. This is the place where we spend a whole day digging under the swingset, convinced we'd make it to China if we dug the whole summer. There's an unfinished house right on our hole to China.
This is very disconcerting to me. I don't really have anyone to discuss these memories with. I'm not friends with any of the people I was friends with back then, and my brother isn't the sentimental freak that I'm am. My sister often enjoys talking about the stuff we used to do, but I don't see her enough to satisfy my sentimental heart. All that was left was the places that these events took place. Now, I'm never going to be able to take my kids to these places. Now, this is how that conversation is going to take place: "Yeah, son. This nice driveway here used to be my playground as a kid. And see that pile of dogshit next to this shed? Yeah, that's where me and your Uncle Paul and your Aunt Megan used to play baseball. That was homebase." Somehow, that's not really how I'd envisioned that conversation.
The only thing keeping me sane is the knowledge that I'm making new memories every day. Last night, I went over to Vicki's and we played Super Mario World on Super Nintendo and we reminiced about how we used to think the cheesy graphics were so awesome. I tried about 50 times to beat this one castle, until it hit 4 o'clock in the morning and I gave up. I always have sucked at video games.
On Wednesday night, I made a serious list of summer goals that I have. Today, I crossed the first one off. I got more hours at work. It's probably not the highest goal I could've set for myself, but it's a start. And I did it. I worked tonight, and that will make 15 hours for the week. And next week, Choo's gonna put me on more. By the way, there's a new member of the Stanley's family, if I haven't mentioned it. Megan, my sister, starts her first day at Stanley's tomorrow. I'm gonna ask if I can stay late and train her. More hours, and I get to tell her how to do it right, as opposed to if Sara told her.
Oh, speaking of Sara, her and Joey finally broke up for good. Most likely. We all hope. And T.T. "let it slip" (wink, wink) that Joey has hit Sara before, when she was talking to Ryan yesterday. She told me that and the first words out of my mouth were, "Is Joey dead yet?" Something tells me Ryan's the same kind of big brother that Chris is. And that means horrible things for Joey's general health and well-being. Not that he doesn't deserve it, for hitting Sara. If I knew him, I'd be the one kicking his ass. You don't mess with my friends.
I got home for work and I went rollerblading again. I vow to get into shape by the time summer's over. I'm well on my way. I out-ran Lucky today. That's a feat in itself.
Okay, this is a long entry, so I'm going to stop writing now.