Mostly True Memoirs
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In The Anthropocene Revealed, John Green spoke about going home.
He says it’s not a place.
It’s a moment.
Perhaps a scent.
Maybe a song.
Possibly just a memory.
Isn’t that the truth?
I visited my hometown last week.
I smelled the briny scent of the ocean.
I felt the warm sun on my shoulders.
I listened to the mesmerizing crash of the waves.
And I played KRTH 101 all week.
The more things change, I noticed, the more they stay the same.
People still flock to the beach with snacks, and sand toys, and boogie boards.
Kids still build sand castles, and dig holes, and fly kites.
And seagulls are still thieves.
There’s always that one kid who throws a scrap of food for the birds.
Resulting in a zillion gulls swarming the beach, fighting over that crumb, and stalking everyone else’s snacks.
And there’s always, always, always that one guy with a metal detector, hoping to score some treasure.
I’ve never seen treasure actually scored, which means that maybe it’s still out there, waiting to be discovered.
I saw lots of friends and family.
I watched The Barbie Movie.
And I had many interesting discussions, leaving me with lots of things to think about.
Is going home possible?
I did it.
It was wonderful.
Everyone has a story to tell.