Old Habits Turned to Nostalgia

I used to take long random drives all the time. In the end, I would always end up in the same place so I could write poems in my book. The place I would end up was usually the parking lot of a church under South Mountain. From there I could see most of the Salt Lake valley. For some reason, I always found that place inspiring and calming. I could sit there and think for hours. I could write anything there and feel good about it, even if I was in my cramped car. In the summer, I would walk around the park that was directly next to it. I could lay in the grass and let my mind drift.

 It was my place. It was my area. On especially stressful days, I didn't just want to be there; I needed to be there. I couldn't wait until I could just jump in my car and drive there. It felt so far away but without being far from home. I felt removed from everyone there. It was practically a habit to just go there 2-5 times a week. I always thought it was a place I would come back to for years to come.

Eventually, I stopped writing poetry. As a result, I went to that place less. I didn't need that hill top to write, but it was a nice place to think. Then I started taking less random drives that would eventually lead me to that place. I didn't need a special place to think anymore. After a while, the hilltop lost its significance to me. It was no longer a destination that hosted my thoughts on seemingly emergent basis's. Soon I just stopped going.

Yesterday, I decided to take a random drive for no real apparent reason. I just wanted to get out of the house. Just like old times, I drove to that hilltop. I smiled as I drove into the parking lot. It was nice to know that it was there. Not that I thought it wouldn't be. It's a relatively new area where a lot of rich people live. I know it's not going anywhere. The memories stirred from inside my head. So many thoughts. So many emotions. I was a different person 5 years ago. It's strange to how much just a little place like that meant to me. Now it serves as a memory beacon of who I once was. I'm not the emotionally charged, young twenty-something struggling to control and make sense of his emotions through a poetic medium.

Maybe I didn't really need the place to write or think. Maybe I just needed something more calming than myself to call my own.

I took this picture not knowing that the house with the odd green light would accidentally become the focus of the picture. On my phone, you couldn't see it at all. I just wanted to get the city. I spent countless hours marveling at the city lights from here.