sometimes a memory takes me by surprise and leaves me awestruck with its power. it only takes one little trigger.
yesterday i was leaving work bundled in my coat. as i walked through the automatic doors and the cool air hit me and the twilight sky filled my eyes, all of a sudden i wasn’t in houston anymore. i hadn’t just walked out of drab, beige building 30 into a sea of asphalt…i had just walked out the door of the durand building into a cool california evening. i unlocked my bike, threw my bag over my shoulder, and with a few strong pumps i was coasting down the hill toward the north side of the quad. i rode in, the bike tires starting to rattle on the cobblestone. i cruised past the church, with its stained glass window glowing from the light inside. i rode out the other end of the quad, turned left to go around the library, past the dumpster and hoover tower and serra mall and finally pulled to a stop in front of a run-down wooden building with a sky-blue door with the white shape of an ocean wave. people laughed inside as i fumbled with the beat-up magnetic lock that always took a couple tries to open. inside was a wood-paneled room that was always well-lit but never well-heated. couches in one corner, tables everywhere else, a canadian flag hanging upside-down on the wall (but no one really knew why). someone rang the bell…
and then i tripped over the curb and was suddenly wrenched back to houston. walked to my car. got in, turned the key, put matchbox twenty in the cd player. took a deep breath. smiled. and drove home.
i think living through the bad makes you more appreciative of the good.
