Pinky Swear

Grandma Joanne and Pops visited for about 9 days over the last couple of weeks. Sadly they departed on the plane last Friday, despite numerous offers by me that they could take up residence in our perfectly lovely attic.

Before they jetted back to the West Coast, they bought the kid a new bike. Her first no training wheels 2-wheeler. From a real life bike store, Buchika's (www.buchikas.com). The guy who helped us (might have been the owner) knew on immediate sight of Arden what size bike would fit her -- the 20 inch. After no hemming and hawing over which color (blue, since there was no red), and a couple of conversations with her grandparents, Arden came home with her shiny new bike. We padded her to the hilt for her first ride, expecting falls and tears and blood and bruises. And, as she has done since birth, she did things her own way and took off flying around the reservoir like she'd been doing it all her life.

We've been out with the bike nearly every day and today she suggested we pinky swear that we go every night after school. She may be the best personal trainer out there ... 2.6 miles tonight. Needless to say, I can't quite keep up with her, but at least I burn calories trying.

Photographic evidence of the first ride below:

Hindsight.

I grew up in a small-ish college town on the Central Coast of CA. The kind of place where you could get anywhere in 15 minutes. With the picturesque downtown minutes from the ocean. The kind of place where we were dropped off at the dance studio at 3pm every afternoon during the week, and 9am on Saturdays and were safe to wander to our favorite haunts between classes.

And, of course, the place I couldn't wait to leave when I graduated from high school. I had to go out and explore the world. I had visions of moving east, where dammit, there were seasons. Year round nice weather was entirely overrated. I never said I was wise back then.

My hometown's perfection was validated this year a la Oprah. She did a segment on its placement as happiest city in America, therefore it must be true.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-G8arph2h8&feature=share

www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Happiest-City-in-America-San-Luis-Obispo-Video

I don't know that you can go back to where you came from. (Yes, I just ended that sentence in a preposition.) I imagine much has changed in the 15 years since I've spent any length of time there. Maybe I've created some heightened version of SLO through my memories...but sometimes I do wish I could just go back. Living there would go a long way to achieving the slower life I so desperately want some days.

One of these days we'll make it back. I will torture my family with a drive up the coast. Eating in my favorite old restaurants. Visiting where I went to school, the old studio and my old house. The light at the end of the tunnel of my memories will be the promise of a trip to Disneyland. I think my wife and child would tolerate just about anything for a hit of the Mouse.