nostalgia (for everything not trending)

Photo by Brandon Hoogenboom on Unsplash

I spent the weekend on the lake with my family. My sister and I went tubing on the boat and then I caught lakeweeds (but no fish) with my five-year-old niece’s Moana fishing pole. This was on Saturday. We didn’t get back to the house until nine. We ate burgers and shakes at the kitchen counter, then went to bed slathered in lotion and with wet wash clothes to soothe our skin. Everyone slept in on Sunday. I made my niece and nephew pancakes with whipped cream. When I left for LA, my face was still red with sun and chapped from tree pollen.

I have a love/hate relationship with my drive to and from my parents’ house in the mountains. I try to visit every six weeks or so, more in the summer months. It’s seven hours from LA if I drive the speed limit and keep my gas/bathroom stop to ten minutes. I was thinking on this past drive about how many times I’ve made the trip, yet I still don’t have “a stop.” I’m always asking Siri where the best gas price is…