I could sit here and argue that I am not a nostalgic person, but in reality? To a fault? I always have been, within reason. Mostly over the superficial stuff, like...alright, in high school the way I dressed? I didn't wear ripped jeans, flannel shirts, or 90s centric band shirts because I was trapped in a "back in the day buffet" as a lot of people teased. The fact was, I am the youngest of three and I missed my sisters. They were both teenage mothers who moved out and took care of families way earlier than both they or myself were ready for. I went from being the youngest of three to an only child seemingly at the blink of an eye. When I started tailoring an identity as a kid? I reverted to an image that I last had of the three of us living under one roof. My sisters were both very heavily influenced by Gangsta Rap and Grunge, and while the environment around us wasn't very positive or giving, the last memory I had of feeling insulated and safe was one when my sisters were still home, when we were still a family (granted, a very fucked up one).
So, Eddie...the creepy Kurt Cobain kid, was Eddie the wildly neurotic insecure kid with separation anxiety wearing ensembles so he felt like his sisters never left him. So yeah, I guess I am nostalgic. I bought my first car when I was 25 years old. A used 2010 Chevy Cobalt that my mom found online. By this point she was sick of watching me walk two and a half hours back and fourth from the town I worked in, to another. She was surely also sick of the mileage I was putting on the one vehicle I shared with her and my dad to get to junior college and my radio job. Eventually opportunity arouse, and we managed to get the keys to my own car the summer of 2012. I was 25 years old which I am sure is pathetic to most, but that was how old I was when I bought my first car..."Colby." My mother came up with that name as it was short for Cobalt, the name stuck because the character in a short story I had just received an A on was named Colby...a hopeless romantic who had a bond with his mother, but a trajectory for tragedy as he was also an addicted rock musician. It just felt like kismet I guess. I drove to meet my future wife in that car when we got coffee just blocks from where I was living. Its the car I drove to her house on our very first date, it was the car I drove with my newborn sons in, its the car I slept in when my dad was sick with cancer and I needed somewhere to sob and get so mad about because I was losing a parent and my lifelong abuser, and it was the car I drove up and down the highway in screaming lyrics to a million songs when my bi-polar disorder had me wondering if I should live or die. It also was the car I drove my niece Hailey in any time she felt as lost as I did when she was a teenager and needed someone to just listen to her and keep her from entertaining the worst possible scenario. Today? I gave the key to her and her boyfriend, Colby is now their car.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
September 2021
Categories |