Nostalgia

With it being April Fool's Day and all (well, in the United States—is there one in Finland?), I considered starting a silly theme, but in the end I decided I'd rather participate in some nostalgia. My theme for this week is, What is your favorite memory? And why?

Mine centers around the road trips my family would take every year to southern California when I was young. San Diego, Los Angeles, and Palm Springs were all a day's drive from home, so these trips meant a day spent in the car with just the four of us, pushing on through miles and miles of highway. I don't really know what we did down south; I have vague memories of overcrowded zoos and endless desert hikes. It's really the driving that I remember.

Early one morning we would all pile into the old station wagon, Mom usually at the wheel, Dad beside her with the maps, and my brother and I in the back, comfortably nestled amongst piles of chips, water bottles, jackets, and rolls of paper towel. The beige seats, cloth worn soft and crayon-wax-stained, warmed in the scorching sun. For lunch we made pit stops at Wendy's, and this was always a treat because besides moving days, road trips were the only time we ate fast food. I remember the smell of the ketchup and french fry grease that lingered on our fingers after we returned to the car.

Occasionally it was hot enough to warrant a spurt of pleasantly musty air from the vents, but for the most part, the car was kept just a little too warm. This and the rolling motion made the back seat a perfect nap environment; I slept to the sound of my parents' voices and the rumble of the highway.

Then someone would pop a cassette into the tape player, and we would sing along to “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Homeward Bound” and “Yellow Submarine,” laughing at the silly lyrics half the time; the rest, singing in earnest, even if my brother and I didn't know all the words. And I watched out the window as the telephone lines and the golden hills streamed by against the pale blue sky...

I recently stumbled upon these songs again and began to remember the old road trips, which stopped when my dad went to work in China, and then faded away in my memory, and the music that formed the soundtrack of my childhood. I guess the reason these road trips are my favorite memory is that I long for more moments like this, where all my family is together and content. These memories are precious and rare, and our chances of making more dwindle every day; my brother leaves for college next year, me a year after that.

But there is still some time left. My father is coming back to visit next week, and this post has left me reconsidering how to spend spring break. Perhaps a Nerdfighter gathering can wait for another day, and I should spend that time with family instead.

Now, I shall spare you any Rebecca Black mockery, but Happy Friday!

Sofia