i talk out loud like you're still around.

god my hair was long. and orange.
we used to drive by the dairy queen on hwy 61 all the time, because, it just happened that you couldn't get to the high school or menards or the cities without passing it. and it was impossible not to have your eye drawn to the giant "foot long 99 cents" sign (never any punctuation), which hasn't changed over the course of the last 30 years, with the exception of the occasional addition of chili or cheese fries. even when the rest of it was boarded up for the winter. you would have to think that running an ice cream shop in mn would be a perilous occupation.
this week i dove head first into a long neglected rubbermaid full of photos. the original idea was to find maija some pictures of my surprise trip to london in 2001 (alas, i found the negatives, but no prints). but, of course, upon launching in like a puppy with a stuffed animal, i started to go through every single one, piles surrounding my bed, sorting, fervently analyzing the details and harkening back to the day, the smell, the feel. there were those that made me smile, silly ventures down the brooklyn streets wearing tights and sneakers in the middle of winter (take that, lily allen). of friends caught unawares, turning around and getting memorialized. and there were those with lost friends, harkening back to the time that we spent together, cherishing the short, beautiful moments we had. still, there were those full of warmth--family and friends, huddled together, you sleeping on the couch, arm cocked back behind your head pushing your neck forward at such an odd angle. filmstrips replaying in my head with choppy dialogue, better recollections of the touch and feel associated with that particular time.
all in all, a cathartic experience, one that, although rooted in the past, riled to project me forward.