Reflection Chapter: Route 66 Memory Lane
Hey, all. In order to move on with my upcoming blogs, I wanted to release this one now. It will make more sense next week.
By the time you read this, several Months will have passed. If it’s published, I guess I thought about it and decided to publish it, most likely heavily edited since the original version was very raw.
I reinstalled my PC. A clean slate. I do this every two years because over time there’s a lot of junk you don’t need anymore: old games, old programs you thought you uninstalled, but some files always remain. I made a backup and started merging everything together on my external drive. I hate doing this, and it took time. A stupid amount of time.
I went folder by folder and kept the best for last, or so I thought. The folder was called Photos. My oldest folder is from 2007. I looked at those old pictures and thought, damn. Back then I said I was fat. I wasn’t. Far from it. I kept going through pictures and folders, and I can’t believe how wrong I was the whole time.
Then the downward spiral began. I started seeing old pictures of friends from school and stared at them while countless memories flooded my nervous system. I laughed at some. Shit, I did some dumb things. Those were the times, I thought.
Then I saw pictures with my friend Pieter. Not an alias this time. I don’t think he would mind me using his real name. I felt grateful that after all these years we are still friends, and that he kind of pushed me to try dancing. He has been dancing for several years now.
Then we reached 2010 or something like that, and I also saw pictures of Thomas and me. Not an alias either, but he doesn’t do social media. He’s off the grid. I miss him. I haven’t heard from him in two years. He moved away, pretty far, and was never the best at keeping in touch. Those two were my ride-or-die back then, and I’m pretty sure if I called Thomas right now, he would answer the phone and be happy that I called. I know exactly what he would say, actually.
But who knows. Maybe my friendship with Thomas will turn out like Pieter’s: not talking for years, and then suddenly seeing each other often again. Pieter and I lost contact for a couple of years, even before COVID. Then suddenly, a couple of years ago, we started seeing each other more often again. Weird how friendships work.
But before I go on, there is a third person I consider my ride-or-die. Not mentioning that there is a third person would feel wrong. I’m not going into that today.
I have a question for you, if you’re reading this, since this is a reflection chapter. When was the last time you looked at your old pictures? Did you feel the same ache I feel now? Did you notice that physical insecurities weren’t as bad as you thought back then? Maybe you’ve changed so much that you don’t recognize yourself anymore, for better or worse, mentally or physically. Do you miss certain people?
Looking at those pictures, I felt relieved and grateful, but I also opened Pandora’s box. I kept going through the folders. Year after year, I saw my trip to Alaska, the first time I really lost my way. But I wasn’t unhappy or depressed back then. Just like now, I wrote a lot.
I read those pages last year, and I don’t want to read them again anytime soon. It was clear I was looking for something. After my trip to Alaska, I found that something, but I never explained what it was. And when I read it last year, it made no sense to me. I wish I had written down what wisdom or puzzle piece I found. Maybe the depression never would have happened. Or was it just the magic of Alaska? I always wanted to go back there.
When you take your time and look at pictures of people you love and they’re not around anymore, those memories feel empty. You wonder if they were ever real at all. What you did wrong. What you could have done differently. I felt the weight of years, the weight of memories. Not one night. Several. It felt like torture, looking at pictures of people not present in your life anymore, dead or otherwise.
In my case, I feel everything deeply. There’s no numbing it. I wish I could. Maybe that’s why I wanted to reconnect with my past over the last couple of months, even if fear and doubt were present. Regretting not speaking to someone once more would haunt me even more. This folder of pictures I opened is full of beautiful memories, but also a painful reminder that time doesn’t stop.
As for my three favorite people I consider my ride-or-die. One of them is busy with his own life, but I know that if I called right this second, he would answer. The second is still around and is my longest friendship. The third one, I hope they get everything out of life. I wish them nothing but happiness. They’ll always have my friendship. I know I’ll always miss theirs.
I do have other people I consider close friends, but they are a step below that.
Those people (ride-or-die) are the kind where, when I’m around them, it’s like listening to your favorite music with no end. It’s like watching your favorite movie on repeat and never getting tired of it. It’s like sitting on a beach, drinking a cold beer while watching a sunset that never ends. It’s the fresh crackle of snow under your feet. It’s sitting around a campfire late at night, sharing stories and laughing.
They are home and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for those people.
I don’t know where life will lead me, but if I get the chance to get old, I picture myself in a rocking chair with my blanket and my memory box, going through all the pictures with my dog at my feet, rocking my chair back and forth somewhere at the end of Route 66.
For now, I just closed the folder, and I’ll organize my photos another year. I felt enough intense emotion to last me for a while.
Author note: The first draft was longer and raw. I edited it down because some parts are still too heavy to share. I use the term “ride-or-die” because it’s the closest word I’ve got for people who sit above “best friends” for me.
This pic. I wonder how old i was 16 maybe?