Wednesday, January 28, 2009
It's a brazenly gorgeous summer day in 1978. Warm sun, light breezes. The car I'm riding in, along with my mother, my brother and one or two of my aunts, seems immense. I am three years old. Everyone is happy. We're going to the beach! The radio is playing Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" and it seems like the happiest song on earth. It matches the way we go up and down the hilly street to find parking. The grown-ups are laughing and joking with me. Later, the drive home will be crunchy with sand and soft with exhaustion. Much, much later--years later--I will hear the song on the radio and marvel at the flood of nearly tangible memory.