Being back in my neighborhood where I grew up makes me feel the nostalgic the way Homer meant. It's weird and moving and great like visiting an old friend, except you both keep changing and it's hard to keep up as much as you used to. It hurts my heart (and my heart) a little bit.
I was at Lindsey's house and found some relics from when we were younger.
When we were committed to something we cared so much about - the book and the four of us.
When we had agents and meetings.
Oh God, when we were in high school.
The old parts of the neighborhood always look the same, but the newer parts, the parts that are always changing anyway, are of course worse.
And of course, any time we're on this street Lindsey reminds me that she went to the Gifted and Talented pre-school here and did you get in? Well no, I didn't apply. Right, so you didn't get in. (Right.)
But after all that, when I'm home and out with Lindsey we still end our nights at Hot and Crusty getting sprinkle cookies, and as long as that stays the same then I'm OK.
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