Sunday, September 7, 2014

A Hanging Memory

Circa 1994.
Sophomore in high school. Sitting out on the front porch with StepDad, just talking about life. The view wasn’t spectacular, mostly because the houses across the street made a better wall than window when trying to see the mountain ridge behind them. There was often a police officer that sat across the street during rush hour, hoping to catch the speeders that blew through our neighborhood. They often did that to avoid the crazy traffic on the main street one block over.

We talked about boys. We talked about driving. We talked about how to use tampons. We talked about cooking. And eating. And we talked about dying. I can remember the conversations as if they were yesterday.

He always spoke of Santa Barbara as if it was the best city on earth, which is why his ashes were spread there. Sitting on the balcony of a hotel room that overlooked the beach, was his favorite thing. And the only thing that made it better, was when he was there to celebrate July 4th.

Since Independence Day (and anything remotely related to ‘Merica), was his favorite, it only seemed fitting to make sure a part of him rested peacefully, inside an American flag. This necklace, holds the remaining ashes that weren’t scattered in the water of Santa Barbara.

And it will hang in my house, ever so perfectly, at the top of the clock that used to hang in his.

 

 

I miss you, StepDad. And now I’ll have you here with me forever. xoxo

 

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