Summertime is my favorite time of year. July 4 is my favorite holiday by far. I have such fond memories as a child sitting on Arrow Highway watching fireworks being let off across the street at the Pomona Fairgrounds with my cousins. Or sitting on 17th Street as my sis-in-laws dance amidst strobe flashing fire works. Or sitting on a hill in Boys Republic watching all the fireworks in the surrounding valleys while making up verses to songs and be terrified of snakes. Or watching the Dodgers play in Chavez Ravine and after the game coming down on the field for the fireworks. This is summer to me.
I had a thought this morning that frightened me. While I was young and newly married I never, ever expected we would move outside of CA. This July we will be married for 14 years. We moved to Idaho just after having Ben. We had been married 7 years. This August marks the point in which we have lived outside of CA as long as we lived in it as a married couple. Some how this breaks my heart a little.
It breaks my heart that my kids don't know the beach, or the LA county fair, or June gloom, or Granny's stach of cookies and candy, or the Chino High band review, or the 10 freeway.
What is the deal with CA? Why does it still have such a pull on me? Why do I always want to drive down every summer with reckless abandon and forget responsibilities? Why can't I find a decent fish taco in UT?