A Lifetime Ago

Memories triggered by a phrase, smell, or location were always reserved for moments of trauma for me. Driving through my childhood neighborhood reminded me of being dragged by my hair down the street by my father. The smell of artichokes in the oven brought back memories of my late grandfather. I could go on, and on. Tonight brought a different ache.

I stepped out to grab lunch for an overnight shift, and was immediately met with a smell I can only describe as Summer. Muggy and damp, but also the smell of dry, almost burning, juxtaposed, filling my lungs with each breath. I saw myself, a lifetime ago.

Riding along, windows down, blaring whatever song of the summer was on the radio. Was it Taylor Swift? Were we making complete fools of ourselves? Probably. We had no destination. No reservations. Young and dumb. Just us, a car, and more time than we knew what to do with.

Nights were for adventures. The beach? Up north? Just circle downtown until we found a place to kill time? We thought time was infinite. We thought we were infinite. Sitting on the shore of Lake Ontario, assailed with the stench of our polluted shoreline, I remember passing a joint with strangers until the crowd thinned. I remember insignificant wins at the casino that warranted a 3 a.m. trip to Fran’s, winner paid of course. Late night trips to Orillia because we had nothing better to do.

More often than not we'd be driving past our haunts hoping to catch someone we knew, or someone we'd like to get to know. Like I said, young and dumb. I remember nights at The Brunswick House, drinking cheap pitchers until we couldn't see straight, cringing when the girl I had been flirting with all night told me I had the same name as her grandfather. Laughing amongst ourselves when that surprisingly wasn't a deal breaker. We got kicked out of The Madison for starting a chant that echoed throughout the entire bar. We hid from cops that were so obviously not looking for us but we were too drunk to think otherwise.

We packed into a van and drove hours north to camp. Caught our meals, drank too much and got way too high. The park rangers threatened more than once to toss us out. We made our way through the Toronto Club circuit. Names I've long forgotten, places I always felt so out of place at. The scene was not mine, but I did it to belong. House parties, barbecues, nights out. It seemed like we were inseparable, until we dissolved.

The cracks began to show quickly. People fell out of relationships, others got into them. Some of us realized that we had never fully been part of the core group. We splintered into factions, or were only called into the main circle on certain days while others were excluded. I watched from afar, one of the first to be left by the wayside, wondering what became of us.

Years have passed. Weddings, children, deaths, and we’re strangers to each other. It seemed almost surgical how one by one we were cut out, disposed of, forgotten. I don't even know what became of a few of us, they've fully disappeared. There are still a core few that make time for each other. I’m not included in that. I’ve mourned it and made peace. Tonight though, a waft of air and I’m watching us, 19, toasting a beer in the summer heat, while I stand here, graying, wondering where the time, and those friends, have gone.