Yesterday morning, I loaded up three boxes of books from our storage unit and took them on a longish drive to a local used book/music/movie store. Now I wasn’t looking to get rich by any means, but I was still a little disappointed to realize that, 10 years later, a box crammed full of $10 books is only worth about $10. Still, it’s better than nothing, so I’m grateful.
While we waited for each of the books to be sorted and priced, The Girlie and I wandered the aisles, where I finally found it: The Stone Roses eponymous album, good as new and for only six bucks. Driving home, I slid it in the CD player and flew through time: seeing the CD case on a dorm-room dresser, reading my friend Brad’s repeated reviews of it in the school paper, and undertaking the important project of synchronizing two separate stereos to play two discs, simultaneously, by pressing the pause button really quick on each CD player to fine-tune the timing. I miss having such important projects to fill my days. “I don’t need to sell my soul, he’s already in me… I wanna be adored…”
Later, on a late afternoon walk with my girls, I spied a rare find at a small local grocery store: bottles of Coke, straight from Mexico. I read the label, and confirmed that it was made with sugar, rather than corn syrup. Not only was it subtle and smooth and delicious, but it took The Wife and I back to the days of childhood (before Coke and Pepsi made the big switch). Something about the familiar flavor and the heavy glass bottle acted like a time machine, and we were kids again for just a moment. Freedom.