what are we running from?

Long Island is in the midst of a heat wave. Tendrils of hair have been stuck to the back of my neck with sweat, and I woke this morning grimy from the bars last night and sticky from the heat. I should be accustomed to the heat by now - having spent the better part of the past fivish years in the South. Back there, back then, it seems like just a dusty photograph of a life that belonged to someone else. The only relief I had from the heat back in good ol' Dixie was a front porch and tinkling glass of sweet tea. Or, more likely in my case, a margarita.

Last night was a night filled with old friends in a familiar place with familiar songs and familiar drinks. It was comfort in a crowded oceanfront bar. The teetotalers version of a security blanket. At one point in the night, I scanned the faces of the people I was with and remembered us as a motley crew of elementary school kids on the playground. How many people get to do that? It was as if nothing had changed between any of us - we were still the kids who rode bikes to the bay, set up lemonade stands, and took dance classes together. One friend was celebrating her upcoming wedding, another her recent divorce. We danced our asses off, accepted cans of beer thrown at us by the bartenders (yet, more childhood friends) and laughed at long-forgotten teachers and neighborhood legends.

My first job was a counter girl at an old fashioned McDonalds looking place. My older sister had worked there for several years, so once I turned 13, I was a shoo-in. The only other person my age who worked there was a younger brother of one of my sister's friends. Rewind to several years ago, my last summer out here, and there may have been what one considered a fling with this sibling. Last night, as I pushed my way through the crowd, I ran into this old friend. It seems a lot has changed - he is now a parent (but single!) - but nothing much has changed as well. He's still got a killer smile. He's still got great charm (maybe that's how he ended up with a kid). In fact, I heard one of the sweetest things I have heard in a while from him last night. Mind you, this was early in the night, before the endges of memory started to blur. "Every Memorial Day I think of you, I think that this might be the summer I finally get to see you again. Every time I go out, I always look around for you, because I always knew one day you'd be back." And me? Well, i've got tentative plans for one night this upcoming week.


So, really, after a night like last night, it does appear you can, indeed, go home again. Marriages, moves and children may come, but when it comes down to it, we still are those little kids and this is still, and always will be, home.



"this is our town, this is who we're meant to be. this is our town, where our roots have grown so deep. this is our town, this is where we're meant to be. this is our town, we'll keep coming back because this is our town"

Download: We The Kings - This Is Our Town