4.30

I remember before this intersection pretended to be better at directing traffic. I’m not sure why the city/county decided to reroute traffic. This intersection was the main entrance to one of our other large roads. Maybe there were too many accidents? Not that it bothered me; that was before I had my learner’s permit. By the time I was on the roads, the old route was gone and I had to actually stop at the red light to turn right. Then, we all had a few years of peace here before more construction started. Before I moved to my current place, about three or four miles of this road was being repaved. Of course, it’s constant construction season in Michigan, so I should have realized that would happen. Luckily, it was finished within a few weeks of me settling in.

The funny part is that my GPS still shows the old configuration. Its year of free updates expired eons ago, but it gets me where I need to go. I’m sure that someone not familiar with my area would have a problem getting around if they’re incredibly daft and unable to read signs. But now there are all these fancy, high-tech smart phones that update every three seconds. I’ll get one of those eventually. For now, I’ll take my 7 year old TomTom and deal with stopping at a red light to turn down a road I use every day. Or, at least, every day I actually wander out into the real world.

4.29

I remember this as one of my wandering stops in this park. I usually only came here with a boy. We’d walk the circle a few times, and venture back to the weathered cemetery. But this was where the two halves of the river met. The park itself is really just a small island. Later in the season, the water will lower. We used to be able to walk out a few feet. Actually, at one point there was a picnic table right at the point. Some kids probably moved it from its original spot; threw it in the water or something. Looks like it finally got cleaned up though. Also looks like some chunks of earth have been washed away as well, but that’s expected. Nothing wrong with a cliff at the edge of an island.

I have pictures here from years ago. There must have been a fallen tree branch out here. This boy took pictures of me standing on it out over the water. It’s a wonder I didn’t go barreling into the river, but I suppose I might have still had some of my dancer’s balance back then. The water was just as dirty as it is now, but there may have been a few more trees here. Maybe that’s just a winter thing, everything is still barren. Michigan can’t seem to pick a season at the moment.

4.28

I remember when this place used to be HOPPIN’. But I can’t really recall when that all stopped. There’s a Super Kmart a few miles away from here, but this is the one I remember. It may have been the Walmart of my childhood. But this was the place to go for sales. So, I probably spent one day a week in there with my Grandma, Nana, and/or Mom. And this was before she could just leave me in the car, so I got to ride around in the cart. I don’t remember what we ever went shopping for; more or less to just browse. But I always remember that I’d get an icee, except I couldn’t say it right. I called it a ‘tozen tote.’ And I had to have one, every time we went to Kmart. I think that was a fair trade, for sitting in a shopping cart with no entertainment while my mom tried on every shoe in the store.

It closed down just recently. Every thing around here has been hit hard, and it’s taking too long for the economy to pick back up. Now things are empty and once bustling strip malls are being torn down. There are rumors that this place has the same fate. The Speedy gas station on the corner will be expanded somehow. I’m not sure why that warrants this building to be torn down, as its rather far from the corner… Oh well, I can’t do anything about it. Just another memory I will soon lose.

4.27

I remember getting this for my birthday one year. And as a complete Harry Potter fanatic, it is probably one of the best birthday gifts I have ever received. It was from a boy, of course. He made this by hand. And it definitely looks hand made. I like it. Still do, even though we’re no longer together. It’s one of those things that you keep for it’s other meanings in your life, rather than its connection to the person who gave it to you. I obviously kept it safe. I still whip it out every so often. But I’m so afraid of breaking it that I usually keep it in its box rather than on display.

I think he knew that this would mean more to me than most other gifts. Maybe that just proves he knew me well? Or that he cared about me? I don’t know. He was willing to spend his valuable free time to create something just for me, with a message that was only relevant to our relationship. If anything, it was intimidating. I couldn’t possibly think of something as marvelous to make for his birthday. Perhaps he did that on purpose. I guess I thought of something eventually. Not that he ever appreciated the work I put into it. And now it’s sitting in a closet collecting dust.

4.26

I remember inhaling cement powder in order to finish this little dude. I started him with a boy, years ago. It was fun mixing cement for the first time. I watch too many crime shows, but I could have hidden a dead body in there. Actually, I should have used this frog’s body as a time capsule. That could have been pretty cool. Unfortunately, I didn’t have spontaneous awesome ideas way back then. We didn’t really know what we were doing, so I guess we were focusing on not spilling his body all over the floor. Turns out we didn’t mix the cement all that well. He could have used a bit more water, but I think the bubbles give him character!

I got custody of the frog after the break-up, and he followed me around for quite some time. He lived in a box while I lived with my nasty roommates, but once I found my own apartment, I was finally able to safely finish him. I spent an afternoon working on his mosaic back, but I had to figure out how to mix cement without a bucket all by my lonesome while fending off curious kitties. Somehow I managed this feat successfully. After he dried, he spent some time outside my front door until I received a letter from the main office telling me that he was a fire hazard. Is cement seriously a fire hazard? Whatever. He lives next to my television now; he’s my domesticated froggie.

4.25

I remember this being my cats’ favorite place to enjoy a scenic view. Back then, this was my room. And I had a giant stuffed reindeer chair that I kept in this corner. Her name was Kain. I say ‘giant’ in relation to my cats’ perspective, but maybe it was perfect size instead. Mimi could curl up with her head resting on the arm rest perfectly. I’m not really sure what they usually became so intrigued by, but I’m sure the birds provided some entertainment. This was usually a perch for when I was out of the condo, otherwise they’d be all over me.

I still really like this window. I love the idea of being able to curl up in a comfy corner and look out of a window with a view. I think I would have needed a bean bag chair or something similar in order to accomplish that. Maybe I just wasn’t home often enough. However, I also started realizing that I could actually go outside and enjoy that view first hand. I tried not to stay cooped up in my bedroom too much. My cats, on the other hand, really had no choice. That’s why I thought Kain was a perfect companion. It’s a shame I had to get rid of her.

4.24

I remember this being my favorite toy for bath time. My dad made it, actually. He was in the Coast Guard for quite a few years, and if I’m remembering correctly, this is a replica of the ship he spent a lot of his time on. It was only my brother and me at the time. Once my sisters came along, I just claimed this as my own. They had their own toys, and I think I’d get upset when they messed with my boat. They were always breaking… well, everything. Someone was always running it into the side of the tub and at one point, my dad had to touch up the paint.

Eventually, everyone reached the age of showers and our bath toys remained under the sink collecting dust. Once I found out that my mom was going to move out of the house, I made sure to rescue my boat before she could get her hands on it. I stored it safely with my other treasures and it’s moved from apartment to apartment with me over the years.

I did start to feel guilty that it was just sitting in a box. But I finally found a home where I felt comfortable displaying the belongings that are closest to my heart. So, this little jewel now has a lovely view of me in the shower.

4.23

I remember when this was the most magical item I owned. It’s meant to catch my bad dreams, and keep them trapped so they don’t come back. There’s lots of lore behind these dream catchers, but this is the version my family passed on to me. They probably were trying to make a connection with our Native background, as well. My mom’s side doesn’t know for sure sure which tribe we are, but it’s there. I guess it meant something to me as a child, because I’ve kept it safe well into my adulthood. Unfortunately, I think it has lost a feather or two over the years, but that’s probably due to the constant moving my parents did. That’s what happens when you keep adding kids to the mix.

I think my Nana and Gramps bought this for me. I was extremely young, but I vaguely remember being in their car when we stopped and found it at some store. We must have been driving back from Ludington or Glennie. There was never enough room to pack all us kids in one car, or maybe my parents just didn’t want to put up with all of us whining the entire trip home. But we’d take turns riding with Nana and Gramps, which was usually a smoother ride. So, one of those early journeys, we stopped along the way and picked up my dream catcher.

Part of the lore that came with it was that I couldn’t touch it once it started collecting my bad dreams. Eventually though, I had to pack my own room for one of the moves. And I specifically remember having a dream after that, one I had months before the move. The weird part was that it wasn’t a nightmare. If anything, it was just super cute. I think I wanted to have that dream again, so I tried picking up the dream catcher. It didn’t work.

4.22

I remember sitting in these halls for midnight shows. It was back when good movies were actually being made. Therefore, I was more willing to spend money on a ticket. And they’d be so promising, I’d be sure to be awake for a midnight start. Now it’s rare to see a movie that was worth wasting my spare time on, which is probably why I just download or search Netflix.

These halls are definitely a positive memory for me. I had the time and energy to spend with real live people for entertainment. We’d get to the theater super early to wait in line for our pick of the seats. It never really worked out in our favor, but it was nice to think it made a difference. Someone had a smart phone at some point, that was nice for part of the time. Otherwise, we just talked while we people-watched and ate candy. It really isn’t so much the movies I remember, even though most of them turned out to be Harry Potter. Just the time I spent with friends on this floor is enough for me. Too bad Rowling stopped at book seven, but we still have a few more Hobbit movies coming our way!

4.21

I remember being so excited when I was finally able to park my car in this parking lot. Excited mainly because I had a car. But having a car to park out here was the last great achievement of high school. The rest of it was just pointless. There was only prestige to look forward to and slowly gain with time. We all crawled along in desperation until we had nothing left to obtain. So, we all graduated instead. And I look back now and realize how silly it was to feel excited over paying to park my car in the parking lot of a school that should be paid for by taxes. It’s just another way to milk money out of people to pay for things that are not my education.

I was a tiny person when I started high school. Well, I was tiny person all through high school, and still am today. But I always remember those giant-looking dicks and bitches of the senior class and sometimes felt envious of their ability to avoid riding the bus home. It was wonderful when my best friend turned 16 and offered to drive me home. But I wanted that for myself. I was tired of being on other people’s schedules. And with my own car, I would have been able to leave on my own time; whether that be as fast as I could or after I finished what I was doing.

The first time I parked here, I felt quite content with life. I was slightly more independent, and that made me forget I was paying a place I hated for a parking pass. As time passed, however, it only frightened me. I started noticing the amount of idiots that had somehow weaseled their way into passing a driver’s test. And my joy of finally acquiring the ability to park here vanished as soon as my car was hit by a prudish mother speeding the wrong way down a one-way aisle who swore up and down that getting her perfect baby angel child to piano lessons was the most important goal of her life. It was my fault of course, because my car was parked inside the lines.