we spent the day yesterday at a memorial for one of our closest friend's mom. a lot of love in that house. among the folded legs and memories tucked into corners. on one table, photos. in one, she was young and on the beach, eyes focused on something in the distance. she was young and it's not always about age, is it? going through a box today, i found an old cd, unlabeled. i found photos. of another parent of a friend who has since passed. and he was not so young in this picture, it was only a few years ago. but he was young, you know? even if he didn't feel it.
driving home from west hills last night, we took ventura blvd. all the way home. we passed a chain restaurant we had once visited back in our first year of dating and i pointed at it. 'i remember eating there...' my voice trailing off as i think back to the chip and pepper jeans i wore nonstop during that time of my life, margaritas with dinner, coffee for dessert. we went back to bryan's apartment that night and played poker with one of our friends. it was my first time playing poker and i drank too much wine and talked the whole time. wiped the floor with them. beginner's luck. or verbal distraction. regardless, i stayed up later than usual that night, smoked too many cigarettes and we went to breakfast late, closer to lunch than not. we were so young, even though we weren't.
a few minutes after passing the restaurant last night, finn says 'yeah, we ate there,' with the taffy-like conviction that only exists between the ages of two and three. 'no, you weren't born yet,' bryan says. and she is silent. and i think she is so young.