Stumbling over rocks in my high heels, feeling the sun’s heat on my skin, being annoyed at tourists – I remember it as though it were yesterday.
But it wasn’t.
It was a long, long, terribly long time ago.
It was a time when I could walk without my shoes quickly becoming damp and heavy. A time when there were people about, ’cause they weren’t all barricaded in at home, waiting for the thaw. A time when the trees were covered with leaves and it was a special occasion if something dripped from one onto you.
Street vendors lined the streets, selling FBI shirts and Gatorade and hot dogs.
Not that I buy food from street vendors.
A childhood filled with my mom saying “look at him touch that hot dog, do you think he washes his hands after he goes to the bathroom?” turned me off the concept.
Though I’m sure street vendors wash their hands.
It’s just a tough image to erase.
College students played Frisbee and attractive men jogged and dogs frolicked through the grass.
It was a time of comfort and joy and not falling down.