Yesterday, while I quietly mainlined Riunite, questions were answered by regaling tales of decades ago. Only the good times from then, those old days. This sent the Big Scoop and I to google maps, which then sent me to discover the public access archives from Bloomington. Yes, such a library exists. It doesn't contain everything (whatever that is), but enough to send my mind spinning back decades, and further neighborhood hunting.
But what am I looking for, exactly? What am I searching for in my mind? The last time I was physically there, I wrote how pleasing it is to find something that still stands from back then to assist in jogging the memories. Last night, however, I didn't need to be there to make it happen. I suppose that will be the ultimate verdict. That (Covid notwithstanding) it's been 5 years since a visit, and if I really needed a score, I'd have been back since. And in that prose from 5 years ago I realized, for better and worse, "those days" don't exist anymore - and that's fine.
We have friends who moved next door to where one lived in his formative years, at least in MN. That's a bridge too far for me, but I understand the pull. I can also see that, for likely 6-7 months of the year, if I pulled such a stunt, I'd be insufferable; always in a foul mood about weather. It was one driver to out here, and we're nearing a quarter century in Dealville. The majority of my full life.
A rep visits the house today to pick up electronics. He's visiting from NYC. What do you think? How's it been? "I love it!" In the brief chat, he exalted on the weather (dry heat), the food (it's all here), the people ("great"). After he left, I mulled over his statements and agreed. It's why you move when you can, to where you want, and can do so again and again. If anybody considers you an outsider or non-native, whether new to the area or even decades later, fuck 'em.
In the Haze-E-Daze of summer vaca, the Scoop reiterated again about her large reluctance to travel. "I love this house! I want to live here my whole life!" I was taken aback. "Well, sweetie of course you're welcome any time you want to visit. But--" She then added more news from the future: "By that point, mom will be in a senior living home, so it'll be even better!"
Zinger aside, it made me realize that she's starting to get those feelings in the moment the same way I did back in the said "old days." Will she have her own pull back, mentally or otherwise? There's no Dealville back there, that's for sure. Many times, I've opined to Laura how amazing it must have been to grow up out here, but she doesn't know any difference. She, too, will occasionally want to go to Bel Air, usually when we're nearby on our way home, to see the house of her youth. You can't see much from street level there, and those winding streets leave little room to park. When she wants to go, we're all supposed to go. I've seen it; that's enough for me. I've long since stopped asking her, while in MN, if she wants to go to my old place. It's a selfish exercise to me, holding next to no meaning to her.
Decades from now, will the Scoop be sitting where I am right now? Will I be here? Or will we swing by on a visit, walking around, with her bringing up these very days? Then, like now, the excitement and possibilities of the future awaits.
