Acrylic painting of the Save-a-lot in the neighborhood I grew up in, and revisited on my evening bike rides through out 2026. I would end up sitting in this parking lot just before the last stretch of my ride that got me home, and I would just sit there and watch the sunset and be surrounded by the realization that the days are just slipping through my fingers. Not long after this ritual stuck, they had started tearing down the buildings.
The strip mall has been empty for maybe 7 years or so. My friends Johnny, Ethan, Joe and I would find ourselves here most evenings in late 2011 after school. Ethans aunts were retired IBEW and gave him a cool $10 a day which he would often put towards us getting stoned and 2 double cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a coke. We would usually walk to the McDonalds and get a drink to be able to sit and use the wifi until we managed to get a ride from Joe's dad Tony - to get weed.
Tony, a Californian gemstone hunter, at the time was crashing on his ex-wife’s couch and would 'steal' her van so he could drive us to pick up bud that was somewhat better than the ditch weed Ethans mom would give us, but still not particularly amazing.
We'd make a fire at Joes and smoke 2 joints or so with Tony in the thatched fort made in the woods behind Joe’s house. Tony would then usually make us some type of chorizo and tortillas before we would all have to disband and go our separate ways for the night. Joe only lived a few blocks away from me so I would usually just walk home if Ethans aunts weren't shuttling Johnny and I.
I've since felt a sense of community time and time again, but not quite how I remember having at the time. I'd say I have a network now, but its not how it was. No form of one is better than the other, they're truly too different to compare and probably all reflect where I am at in life. I guess there is just something to be said about the friendships you make at age 15/16 and how fleeting dynamics can be. I don't think I want to go back, but there is something about the freedom and autonomy I remember that is worth striving for in present times. I think my memory is abstracted by the passage of time, but there is a level of intuition and gut feeling that weighs heavy on my mind in regards to seeking that comfort once again however it may look or feel.
