The desert is strange it has a funny way of drying out everything and yet nothing changes. My grandpas shop still stands after years and years of being baked in the hot Arizona sun. This is my Sienna memory.
I remember as a child running around in the sand walking stick in one hand and chewing gum in the other. I laughed a lot here I cried a lot more. One Sienna Memory.
My grandpas white suburban still roars. Countless memories in this car. I once spilled nerds candy everywhere in the back seat. They are still eerywhere, in little nooks and crannys all in the back seat, forever embedded. Sienna memory.
Title: Between the California sea and the Arizona Desert
My School years were based on two things. One being I stayed in Califorina during school the other was being sent to Arizona during summer. I dreaded summers.
I was raised on the beach but sent to the sand where I dried out and cried often
I missed home missed my mom missed the beach.
I dreaded the heat dreaded the vast desert dreaded my life there.
I was in between two lifestyles. The opposite of the two
The Ocean The Desert. I claim both.
Four Years
Its been four years since ive been here
The road seems deadful and my heart quickens with every mile.
WIll I be judged for not comming back? My mind runs popping scenarios over and over and over Womdering if they will even recognize me
When I got into the car, my sister who I havent spoken to in years remains silent not even aknowleging my prescence. Im getting judged forsure.
I hate comming here. I have avoided it for so long. Since becoming an adult, I have somehow managed to escape it. and escape it i did. For four years.
Until now.
Title: Cactus Scars
Coming back to a place a place that you have avoided is like stepping on a cactus cactus scars
When I was about eight I had fallen off my bike and stepped barefoot right ontop of a cactus which would later be my cactus scar
The needles submerged into my flesh and pain seared my foot and blood rushed out all because I had stepped on the cactus which is now my cactus scar
But the scar itself is visible and my mind is filled with painful memories Of childhood trauma where I was bullied by my family criticized for my passion and constantly judged for my choices This was the real cactus scar.
I had avoided this place for as long as I could But fate had dragged me onto an airplane and shot me 1,854 miles west back to the place that had given me the deepest scar.