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Due to a series of unfortunate events, my family had COVID-19 on easter. Luckily, I did not as I don’t live with them. But of course that meant I couldn’t go and see them– and so I found myself quite alone and bored on the holiday. With my newfound free time, I decided to venture out to what used to be one of my favorite places. A beach near my childhood home.
I used to spend so much time there. Me and my sister would drive there nearly every night that we were home together when we both lived at home, for years. I would take my friends there whenever we were bored or needed to talk. Many important conversations happened on the cold sand (often far past their actual hours of operation). And many of these conversations happened with people who I don’t even talk to anymore– as it’s been several years now. But I still look back with such fondness and reverence for the fact that they even happened. When I needed time to think alone, that is where I would go.
So, I drove out there. Almost an hour each way. Hey, I quite literally had nothing else to do. When I got there, I sat on the same cold swingset that my mom used to take me and my sister to as children. Just my luck, the wind was blowing and it was quite chilly.
I took some pictures there for my instagram, and I captioned it “This used to be my favorite place to come and ponder. It feels colder now. I guess the seasons are changing”. While the wind may have been blistering on that cold April afternoon, I mainly meant the seasons of life.
I thought about how I used to frequent there, and now I couldn’t remember the last time I had been there. At least a few months. And I knew it would take me awhile to get back there again– at least another few months. It almost felt like a farewell. I realized it didn't hold the same meaning for me now. I was a visitor, in what used to feel like my spot. A foreigner in a place I had come from.
The sand seemed so much grayer, and the water so much duller. I realized how small the beach actually was. The paint had started chipping on the playground-- and it felt much more dismal than it had any other day. It just felt different, and there is no other way to describe it. Sitting there on that beach I realized, in a way, I had moved on. The place that used to be my place, now felt almost foreign. More like a memory than a current experience.
But, I still hold such appreciation for it. All of those late night conversations, the good music, and deep thoughts I had experienced there. While it may not hold the same role it used to, it still meant something.
I’m sure in the future there will be new places, and then I will outgrow those places too. Because I, as a person, refuse to stay stagnant. But that's okay-- expected even. Because I will never forget what that place used to be.
Alas, I am onto the next people and places.
