Georgia
I'm listening to the theme music from Out of Africa, which was one of the songs we played in band my sophomore year of high school (it's around 4:10 in this video). My fingers want to play the main melody -- they remember about 97% of the notes, but then there are a couple that are just missing from my muscle memory, and I get lost.
That's how I felt during much of my trip to Georgia. I spent almost ten years there, and they were pretty important years, but a lot of it feels distant now. Is that just what happens with time? Finding my way home used to be second nature. I used to ride my bike around my subdivision by myself as a middle schooler; this time we adults got lost trying to come in the back way. Driving the streets of Marietta, I remembered weird, random things -- like that this neighborhood was where the boy who took me to the 8th grade dance lived -- but I couldn't tell you how to get anywhere. And I'm not even going to get into how many names and faces I've forgotten.
We drove by our old house and through the parking lot of my high school, but what was strange was that I didn't particularly want to see places, I wanted to see roads. The long, winding road that I used to take to work after school. The road through a subdivision high up on a hill where you could see mountains in the distance. The road past the governor's mansion where a friend stuck her head out the window of our car and yelled "Hey, Roy Barnes!" (I had to look up his name because I didn't remember it). Maybe it's because Georgia was where I learned to drive, and where I first got to experience that rush that comes when you get to be in charge of your own movement, but really what I would have liked to do is to get in a car by myself and just drive, trying to find all the routes I used to take and the places I used to go.
But though there are things that have slipped by, there are friends that always make you feel like no time has passed at all, whether you see them once every couple years or once a month. We were only in Georgia for a day and a half, but I got to eat lots of yummy food, talk to one of my best friends from high school, and watch several not-so-great movies. So basically it was an excellent time.
It was a gray day, but the views were still pretty. We also met some baby geese...
And went to a movie theater where the seats reclined ALL THE WAY. I got to watch The Great Gatsby LAYING DOWN. It was awesome.
That's how I felt during much of my trip to Georgia. I spent almost ten years there, and they were pretty important years, but a lot of it feels distant now. Is that just what happens with time? Finding my way home used to be second nature. I used to ride my bike around my subdivision by myself as a middle schooler; this time we adults got lost trying to come in the back way. Driving the streets of Marietta, I remembered weird, random things -- like that this neighborhood was where the boy who took me to the 8th grade dance lived -- but I couldn't tell you how to get anywhere. And I'm not even going to get into how many names and faces I've forgotten.
We drove by our old house and through the parking lot of my high school, but what was strange was that I didn't particularly want to see places, I wanted to see roads. The long, winding road that I used to take to work after school. The road through a subdivision high up on a hill where you could see mountains in the distance. The road past the governor's mansion where a friend stuck her head out the window of our car and yelled "Hey, Roy Barnes!" (I had to look up his name because I didn't remember it). Maybe it's because Georgia was where I learned to drive, and where I first got to experience that rush that comes when you get to be in charge of your own movement, but really what I would have liked to do is to get in a car by myself and just drive, trying to find all the routes I used to take and the places I used to go.
But though there are things that have slipped by, there are friends that always make you feel like no time has passed at all, whether you see them once every couple years or once a month. We were only in Georgia for a day and a half, but I got to eat lots of yummy food, talk to one of my best friends from high school, and watch several not-so-great movies. So basically it was an excellent time.
Brinna and her husband Brian. He was making that face on purpose -- that's not a normal expression.
After lunch we went to Piedmont Park in Atlanta, where some kids gave us a free pack of lightbulbs with a Bible verse on them. You know lightbulbs make you think of Jesus.
It was a gray day, but the views were still pretty. We also met some baby geese...
And went to a movie theater where the seats reclined ALL THE WAY. I got to watch The Great Gatsby LAYING DOWN. It was awesome.
This really isn't a great picture because Michael didn't recline his seat, so you can't see how awesome it was. His legs were too long for the foot rest.
It's a little overwhelming to come face-to-face with time passing by, and to realize that things will slip away, because that's just the way it works. But it doesn't really matter when you have good people around you, and plenty of new memories to make. Well, it doesn't matter as much.