Places, or 1 am ramblings

I haven’t written anything in a long time because school got crazy.  And now my new post isn’t even about Italy.

I’m graduating college in a few days.  That’s crazy.  i’ll never have to go to class or write papers or finished required readings or do something for a grade ever again.  That’s pretty weird.  Like I have two days before my family gets here, and I basically have nothing to do.  Give me an assignment, quick!

I’m not sure how I feel about leaving Humboldt.  Like I’ll be glad to get away from the weird transients (most of them are fine but one lady threatened to beat me up because I was talking to her boyfriend about his dog), and the constant smell of pot and the liquor stores and driving to Safeway at night and wondering if the ambulance and/or police will be at the bars yet.  I used to keep track of when they got there.  I’m definitely not going to miss EurTWEAKa.

But I was driving around the other day, out on Samoa and then around to Old Arcata Road, and looking at the fields with cows and their babies and the bay and the egrets that stand like sentinels in the grass; and I was walking down to Tin Can Mailman, the best used bookstore I’ve ever been to, and I was looking at the grass growing in the cracks in the sidewalk and the tiny yellow and white flowers growing in peoples’ front lawns, and I’ll miss that.  I’ll miss the hawks and the big eagle or vulture or whatever that flew in front of my car the other day.  I already miss hanging out with Sam almost every night and being obnoxious at Safeway at 11pm.  I miss riding on the front of the cart while he pretended to roll me into a stand of skillets.  I’m going to miss the smell of trees.

I have strong connections to places.  I go to South Pasadena and I’m a kid again, but also kind of an adult.  In Arcata I’m mostly an adult, but I’m also a college student.  In Firenze I was myself, because no one knew who I was.  On vacations I am a passenger, an explorer, an observer.

When I’m sad or miss a friend, I listen to the Beatles song In My Life.  The places that are gone or have changed, like the mountains near my house in LA.  Places I’ll remember all my life.  Firenze.  Humboldt.

Who knows, maybe I’ll wind up moving back out to the countryside, maybe on the central coast of California, like San Luis Obispo or something, because I know I’m going to miss the smell of the sky and the breeze saying summer is on its way.  I’m not coming back to Humboldt.  Its connection to sad memories is too strong.  I need to go somewhere that makes me look up at the sky and smile.

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