learning to drive

When I was little, I lived by the beach and on a really tall hill. When I rode my scooter to school, I’d rest both my feet on the board and let the weight of my backpack carry me all the way to the bottom. I no longer own a scooter and learning to drive a car gives me a sense of anxious freedom. My dad says the heel of your foot should always be by the brakes and that each driver will eventually get a hang of how much pressure to apply on the gas pedal.

I’ve been feeling both terribly old and like a child lately, as if the last 365 enveloped another world but also never even happened at all. My reflection and the way I dress seem unrecognizable, and the weight of a one shoulder bag isn’t as reassuring. This picture makes it look like I still live on a hill, and in 2 months, I will be a walk from the beach again. And as much as I am liking having more control of how fast I go, I miss not feeling safest with my foot on the brakes.

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zips, cigs and my old man

the thing about spending uninterrupted time with your family —not to say that the time could not be voluntarily interrupted by smart screens— is that it can allow you to notice all the things you hate