Sunburned Memories

Dear Johnny,

I think about Florida a lot.  I can still see the white beach stretched out and white-topped waves crashing against the sand.  It’s interesting how one person can feel inspired by a place and almost fall in love with its intricacies when another person can feel exactly opposite.  I read a blog recently about the author’s dislike of Florida, and, while I didn’t necessarily agree, I understood what she meant by loving a place other than your home.  She loves New England, and I love Florida.

I think it’s because Florida, for me, isn’t home.  It doesn’t hold dark memories or painful pasts.  For me, Florida is a hot, sticky, sunburned memory.  A soft kiss in the darkness.  A cool shower after a sweaty day.  Florida is all my memories of you.

That’s why I have a love-hate relationship with my hometown.  I have crazy memories of daredevil drives and illegal antics that I envision when I drive down certain streets.  But, I also have those few tiny moments that we spent wrapped together. 

Maybe these are the reasons why I gravitate towards those green palm trees and blue waves whenever I want to run away.  I was happy there, happier than I have ever been or will ever be. 

Florida is my escape.  I will escape again.  Someday.

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