He-Man and the Trail of Molten Land
June is Iunius. For the juniores, for the younger ones. A month spent remembering where I came from, what I'm forged from, and things I've done. A month hanging out with the kid I used to be.
Six months in. Half gone, half still ahead. The summer solstice marked the midpoint, the longest day before the slow tilt back. My doctor told me to run less and lift more, so 65 treadmill miles and 294,000 pounds moved. 10 Beli stops, a 45-week streak. More hummus than I can count. Dahlias for days. Touched old lava. Older than the old bricks in the oldest college building west of the Alleghenies. Time doesn't show off. It just sits there, being older than me. We're all just rock, waiting around.
Took a trip back to college, 26 years later. The smell hit first. Nostalgia has a scent, and it still lingers around the secret garden tucked between Old Main and South Hall. The god of fire and forge is a fitting mascot for a place that melts you down and pours you into something new. Very Vulcan. The booth where we had our first date is gone. The old Chinese food place is for sale. But our old apartment is still there. This is where we used to live. Everything felt smaller, or maybe I'm bigger now. Probably a little bit of both. Ran past a building from 1793. Somehow, those old bricks make me feel young.
Saw He-Man on the big screen. If six-year-old me knew I'd be watching a He-Man movie from a recliner four decades later, he'd think I was a King. The world is huge when you're small. Even in Eternia. Adam was just a kid people underestimated. Then he raised the sword and became the most powerful man in the universe. I thought I wanted his muscles. Turns out, I just needed his agency. Now, I have the power to feel like a kid again. My only regret was too much popcorn.
Made the trek to Bend. A layover in Seattle felt right, I was hanging out with tossed salads and scrambled eggs. We’re all a bit odd. Watched my wildcards become big blue ducks and a stinky Bigfoot. That’s what creatives do with chaos. They brand it and sell it. Our only KPI was a regulated nervous system. No dashboards. No deadlines. Just breathing. Hiked up a lava butte, she was a beaut. The kid who drew volcanoes erupting in red crayon, who thought lava was the coolest violence on Earth, would have lost his mind. Forty years later I stood on my drawings. Cold and long quiet. Black rock lay where fire used to fly. A certain irony coming to a place the earth tore wide open just to practice being still.
I snuck my childhood stuffed cat onto a video set for an Easter egg, a little secret my mom will certainly adore. Hosted a bring-your-kid-to-work day and watched the office fill with little versions of us. Discovered 'Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps' by Desi Arnaz, sixty-eight years old and brand new to my ears. Enjoying Kaffee und Kuchen like my German ancestors, coffee and cake, a ritual older than my bloodline remembers. Went back to content camp, virtually and in-person.
June reminds me we're halfway there. Half here in the present, paying a mortgage, baking bread, and being responsible. Half back there in the past, kicking around on a piece of ground in my home town. We can’t fully return, maybe even wouldn't given the chance. But we shouldn't fully let go either.
Indulge the ache of nostalgia every once in a while.
For this day, too, will become a place we can’t return.
