Monday, 19 August 2013


Today I flew out of Montana, had a layover in Colorado, and now find myself in a hotel bar just outside of Indianapolis. It is sort of like living my childhood in fast forward (hotel bar aside, of course-- those didn't function prominently in my childhood). I have spent part of every year (at least a few days in the winter, sometimes multiple months in the summer) in Montana. I lived in Colorado for a a year and a bit as a "tween," and Indiana was childhood headquarters-- complete with "night games" outside in the cul de sac, endless sleepovers, ice cream trucks, and living spitting distance from the neighborhood pool. (Are neighbourhood pools even a thing anymore? I haven't heard of one since we moved.)

Now I'm back. Back in the Suburbs. Back in the humidity. Back here, in the middle. I feel almost gleeful, driving here. Drinking here. Seeing my childhood BFF get married, for goodnesssake. Who is the adult here?

There is no way the answer is "me."

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