Waves Of Nostalgia

FLASHBACK: 2007

The music pouring out of the speakers speaks volumes of a time so long ago…

Not of Egyptians, not that of Pilgrims.

1996.

It’s summer. The breeze is blowing just enough on the beachfront to push the mosquitos along and the smell of salt water up your nostrils.

We all might as well have spawned from salt water. It ran through our veins thicker than blood.

Staring off in the horizon. Stars. The moon. Ships traveling up the bay. Nudging each other about one day we’d not be in the ghetto of that town. We’d be big wigs. We’d all be on those ships together. We wouldn’t be here anymore.

And we wished ourselves away.

I really must confess
I’m feeling quite distressed, my stars are always crossed
But I have always taken more than I have given back
And as a matter of fact, I’ve given nothing up

The words spill out, part of those lyrics later to become my senior quote in high school.

I hear the crashing of waves, soft but intense. Then it is all overcome by laughter. Even though I am plagued by the chill of the concrete benches in the heat, I agree to walk to the pier. I weave along, a bottle that is gigantic in my hand swinging along the way. I pull the forty of Colt 45 to my mouth and follow my boys.

We’re nearing the end of the pier. I stop at one of the tucked away benches to pop a squat and pee. I hear one of them ahead yelling back if I need them to come back and hold anything for me while I piss.

I throw up my middle finger.

Pulling up my shorts and stumbling from a puddle, swigging again on my favorite malt liqueur, I stare off again in the horizon and wonder what the world holds for me. Fifty thousand words fly through my head and I giggle. I want to be a writer. I want the world to see this. I want them to see how beautiful my world is. Stevie steadies me with an arm as I stumble to catch up and all I can think is I have friends who love me. I have great beverages. I have a whole month of summer before me to waste the night away. To drink. To giggle. To pee on the pier.

And even now, I close my eyes and I see us. I see the moon. I see the stars. I see everything we had then that we tossed to the gentle summer breeze and lapping waves on the beach.

Image

Cape Charles Beach 1995

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