I think about how quickly the weather changes. From heat to cool and rain to shine. Spurts of happiness mixed into the muck.
I think about the smell of asphalt after it rains and how much I love it.
I think about wet sand at the beach. Sporadic drops sprinkle onto mounds of the fine grain at first. When the storm reaches its full potential, the microscopic bits of rock become one analogous mass that my feet sink in rather than slide through. The wetness adds a new weight and density to the beach. What once was light and airy earth is now dark and dismal.
I think about disappearing under the crashing waves and resurfacing after they’ve passed.
I think about walking down the boardwalk with an ice cream cone in hand.
I think about the tropical drink served in a pineapple rind at one of the street food stands. They dressed the drink with miniature, multi-colored plastic monkeys and a decorative umbrella for good measure. I never got to try the drink.
I think about trying to walk in broken flip flops and failed attempts at prying the toe-thong back through the front of the shoe. I inevitably stub my toe as the plastic foam folds under my foot.
I think about skipping rocks at the river and the excitement that comes with each new ringlet.
I think about playing old maid and the suspense that ceases my body as I take a card from the choices fanned before me.
I think about when I was small enough to crawl behind the brown leather couch in my living room during hide and seek.
I think about when I tried on my cousin’s old dance dresses and acted like I was a fashionista on my curving carpet staircase.
I think about my childhood bedroom. I had a lofted bed frame with dollhouse drapes held up by pointed metal rods to complete the illusion.
I think about pretending to fall asleep during naptime at elementary school.
I think about the magic of falling asleep knowing that I’ll wake up to a snow day.
I think about waking up on a snow day and building a snowman with my siblings, taking breaks for hot cocoa.
I think about using my boogie board to sled down the four, icy brick steps in front of my house.
I think about running around the cul de sac in front of my house during a huge snowball fight.
I think about running inside the house to dethaw my hands with hot water from the bathroom faucet.
I think about going to my friend’s house to play and feeling torn between playing princess and making mud pies.
I think about having sticker parties with my friends and sifting through our personal collections to trade amongst one another.
I think about when I first got Instagram in the fourth grade. I would post screenshots of internet photos I thought looked cool.
I think about how I’ve never changed my Instagram handle. It’s always been @ellanator9 because that’s what my friend told me to name it (I think it’s supposed to be some Minecraft pun).
I think about standing in front of my mirror and singing along to the Kids-Bop CD blasting from my Hello Kitty boombox.
I think about leaving notes on the bathroom mirror after a shower.
I think about my brother’s caricature drawings on napkins, restaurant menus, notebooks, and my car window (if you look closely, there’s still a faint trace of the Batman logo on my windshield that has never quite washed off).
I think about my brother chugging two large glasses of chocolate milk across the Canadian border at Niagara Falls. He threw up.
I think about the tape outline of my brother’s body on the Japanese side street where he was hit by a car (he is okay, and a crosswalk has since been added to the street).
I think about how on the same street, I witnessed a dragon fruit flower bloom on an evening walk to Family-Mart (a Japanese convenience store).
I think about the icy texture of vanilla Coolish ice cream from the blue reflective pouch, like the kids' applesauce pouches.
I think about how my foot was stained purple for a couple days after stepping on a sea slug in the ocean.
I think about trying a Big Mac for the first time at a Tokyo McDonald’s while on a school trip for soccer.
I think about how I once ordered chicken nuggets at McDonald’s and instead discovered a slice of birthday cake in the carton (which my mom didn’t let me eat).
I think about the next time I’ll see my friends before we say goodbye.
I think about all of the fateful possibilities while I’m driving down the street.
I think about speeding up at the yellow, but I come to a full stop.
