Would you like some heavy sighs to go with that nostalgia?

Spent my yoga hour this morning pouring over old photo albums. Feeling so nostalgic I don't know what to do with myself. Is it because I'm on my way back to The Valley for a visit? Heading to the childhood homestead always brings up memories long forgotten. But if they've been forgotten, are they really memories?

Or maybe it's Jake.

My beloveds, circa 1995

(From left: Joe, Me, Jake, Rachelle, Michael, Anthony, Ty.)

My beloveds, circa 2008

(From left: Joe, Anthony, Jake, Michael, Me.)

Pieces of the puzzle.

The strangest part about losing Jake this past March, was that I had only just reconnected with him. When I flew to Seattle for Anthony's wedding in September, I hadn't seen any of my cousins in eight years. EIGHT. How did I let eight years go by without seeing people who I love so dearly, who I treasure so? But that is how life works. We all let those eight years slip by. And then there I was, home with them again, and it was as if no time had passed at all. It was just me and my cousins, my best friends, the people who I love like no other, they share my blood, those beautiful, wonderful men. And I thought to myself, every moment that I spent with them those three days, I thought: Never again. Never again will I let so much time pass. Never again will I lose touch with these, my blood and soul.

Six months later to the day, Jake was gone. All of the visions I had of us as old people, our grand babies on one another's knees, telling stories of the past to our children of the future, all those visions changed. Jake was gone. Jake was part of the past. That was it. One last hurrah and he was gone.

Here I am, getting sentimental. Blabbering on and on and on. Forgive me.

So I'm gearing up for another trip home, this time to my California home, to see my other boys. Only, they are men now. And they are mostly strangers.

These were the boys who helped form me. My chosen cousins. The ones who were there when my blood-related were too far north. But then life happened and we've all gone different ways and most of them lost track of me or I lost track of them and it doesn't really matter because I don't know where they are or what they're doing or how to find them. And if I found them? I wouldn't know what to say.

Is that what nostalgia is? Grieving for the past? Childhood gone? Remember when we felt so young and strong and full of ourselves? Remember when we were so sure of who we were and how our lives would go? Remember holding on to each other, laughing, wind in our hair, cigarettes dangling from baby lips, so sure we'd be like this forever? How could we ever be any other way?

George looked the oldest of all of us. I don't know how old he was when he started smoking, but he was the reason we all kept up with him. No one ever carded that face for cigarettes, which kind of amazes me because, underneath all that burly man-fur is the babiest of faces. Greek God in training.

Of everybody, of every friend I've ever had, George's is the most consistent face in the albums. He has always been there, we have been through our share of shit that is for sure, but he has always been there.

Dave and me, Vice Versa, junior year. We thought we were the hottest kids in town. The cats pajamas, were we. We spent the weeks leading up to the dance on the phone every night talking about what we were going to wear. My dress was black velvet, his vest was red velvet. He found me a corsage with red and black roses. He introduced me to Nine Inch Nails. He made me the star in the slasher films he shot in his mom's garage. I thought I'd always be the star of his movies. What happened to those children who loved each other so much? Where did we go?

The first day of school, senior year. Check out my drivers side back tire. I drove all the way to school like that, drove all my friends out to lunch, and didn't even notice I had a flat until I was on my way home that afternoon. That car was dubbed 'The Go-Cart' by Josh, because of the way it sounded when I drove it. One day I dropped it off for an oil change and when I picked it up, my mechanic was flushed and restraining his voice as he tried not to scream at me. The sound? The go-cart sound? That was my radiator, hanging by a thread. The damage that was done to it told a story of months of neglect. You can tell why it's a good thing I no longer own a car.

My high school sweetheart. First love. I thought I was going to marry that guy, probably until my second year in college. Somehow, we've always kept in touch. When he was in the city last winter, he called me up and we met for drinks. I still have the locket he gave me for Christmas senior year. It still has his photo in it. A relic of olden times.

Oh, Kevin! WHAT DID YOUR MOTHER THINK? Vice Versa. I rebelled against my broken heart by going with a girl. Actually, it was the four of us girls, pictured here. I think the boys were secretly hurt that we hadn't asked them to be our dates, but we were on a rampage. MEN WERE THE ENEMY. We girls were at Jenny's house (she's the pretty redhead) getting ready for the dance when all the boys showed up with red roses. We chided them for crashing our Girls Only party and kicked them out. Heartless, heartless girls, were we. Kevin was the only boy from our group who made it to the dance that year, some girl from someone else's clique asked him as her date. And he got all four of us to pose with him for a photo, which I'm going to bet made the other boys, the ones left at home, very jealous.

George and Nathan. This was taken at my 18th surprise birthday party. Nathan, Nathan, good old reliable Nathan. Whatever happened to Nathan? I adored him so. I named my pet rat after him. (I considered that a compliment.) Biology was my favorite class sophomore year because I shared it with George and Nathan. I went through a Super Christian phase junior year and made it my mission to "save" Nathan. (I know. It's offensive even to me.) So, I'm going to save Nathan, I honestly can't remember why I thought it was Nathan who needed saving, but he goes along for it. Every Sunday I drive over to his house and pick him up in my Volvo and he says goodbye to his mom and she says, "Got your wallet? Got your keys? Got your smokes?" and I drive him to Christian Youth Group where he sits, a very patient Jewish boy, in a circle on the floor of the church singing Beatles' songs, holding my hand.

What happened to Nathan? Where are you, Sweet? What do you remember that I've forgotten?

My first memory of Kevin is of him accidentally elbowing me in the face, and when I started yelling about it, he stuffed my head in his armpit and started wailing, "OH NO I BONKED YOUR MELON!" Over and over again until the tears streaming down my face were from laughter. A few years later he was asking me to prom on Valentine's Day, while trying to stick his hand up my skirt. He did not succeed with my skirt, but I did say yes to prom. His parents bought us swing dancing lessons and for six weeks before the dance I showed up at his mother and father's house in those hooker shoes and practiced swing dancing with them. On prom night, we were the best dancers on floor.

And shall I address the fact that his pants are around his ankles? Or should I just let you invent a story for that?

My best friends. Senior Prom. From left: Nathan, Russ, Me, George, Kev, Josh and Tomi. My blood-brothers. We were going to be like family forever. I really believed that. Did they? Or did they know better? Did they know it was just temporary? That life would happen and we would go our separate ways? We didn't mean for it to work out that way, but we were children and then one day we weren't anymore. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and be there again, just for a minute, to soak it all up. Breathe it in, relish it, then tuck it away in my pocket, take it out later and admire it. My childhood. My own little men. My first loves. There is so much I don't remember. Small things that slipped through the cracks, things I imagine are shining like jewels just beyond my reach.

Our whole lives ahead of us and nowhere to go but up.

7/24/09