Abilene

I miss Abilene today. Sitting in the office on yet another conference call, I logged on to twitter. Sometimes, I just need something to look at when I'm on an hour-long call.

I ran a random search for "Abilene," and read through everyone's words. I was jealous of the ones who are there today. It made me think of the things I miss:

The crack of thunder in a dark gray sky as George Flickinger warned us about hail in Throckmorton county. The smell of ozone so strong it was like perfume on Easter morning. Cedar and Mesquite trees, the smell of barbecue and hot concrete. Sunny days that seem to last for years. Little league games at Redbud park, across from Jackson elementary; little sisters running around the stands as big brothers go to bat. Shotwell stadium on a Friday night; the cold metal under my butt and the bright lights over our heads.

Sayles Boulevard on a Sunday morning, driving to church on empty streets. Doughnuts in Sunday School and white tights in patent-leather shoes. The smell of crayons and pencils on the first day of school.

The Century 12 theater on John Knox drive, the smell of Sonic chili dogs in the air. United supermarket on a random Tuesday, when you always saw someone's mother or teacher. The high school kids bagging groceries. I used to walk there with Doracy in the 7th grade; buy frozen orange juice and eat it right out of the can on a hot summer day.

Driving down Rebecca Lane, all the way to South 1st, with the music turned up in my '86 Honda.

I miss the 4th of July in my grandparent's back yard. Turkey sandwiches with Miracle Whip, potato chips and barbecue. The air went gray and the fireworks started; the scent of sparklers and Cinnabar.

I miss my little brother playing guitar, his bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Courtney's music and dad's Seinfeld reruns. He always took a bath at night, emerging at 9 or 10 smelling like Stetson in his bathrobe.

I miss laying out on the trampoline on a summer night looking up at the stars. Jumping in the afternoon, doing backflips as the sprinkler drenched it from below. Long bike rides to Cooper when we were kids, the high school students gone for the summer, and it was just Courtney and me discovering the campus... five years before I started high school myself.

The sound of the CHS Band on school mornings, starting before 7. But the sun was already out and the music was so happy. Mom making breakfast in the kitchen. Her blue work uniform three inches from my face as she fixed my hair for school. Her clear Heart cassette in that red Pontiac. Ruby. Beautiful perfume and Aqua Net hairspray.

I know it's not the same Abilene I grew up in anymore. Life goes on, things change.

But for the rest of my life, I'll always miss Abilene.