More on Love...

I was driving around Baltimore tonight. Going from my grandparent's apartment to Target to my brother's house. On the radio of my rental car I found a station that was titled "LOVE." I have no idea what it is, the entire radio service in my car is like cable TV. There are over 100 different stations from all over the country.

As I drive, I pass 7-11. The love song is one from the 80's. And as I drive I remember:

It's 1984. I'm out on a Saturday night with "Bobby"- my very first boyfriend. In his maroon Berlinetti Camaro. We pull up to the 7-11 on Reisterstown Road. I wait in the car. He goes in and buys himself a can of Mountain Dew and an individually wrapped Entenmanns brownie. He comes back to the car and offers me some (I'm just making that part up, b/c I don't want to remember him as selfish, but I don't remember him offering me anything. whatever.) He drinks the can of soda down in one gulp and yells out, "Ahhh. Better than *#*#." (Use your imagination. I'm already putting myself -and him- out there! I'm writing more than I probably should.)

It's a memory. Like it was yesterday.

Most of my memories of driving around in Baltimore are of "Bobby". In his Camaro.

There's something here that I never let go of. Something I really miss. My teenagehood? My freedom? Irresponsibility? It's still here, and it comes back to remind me whenever I come back. I can't seem to shake it off. It's always here. There's love and longing. There's sweetness and kindness. There's innocence and realness. There's dishonesty and hurt.

Songs and park benches. Parking lots and stores. Streets and street corners. Houses and hills.

Memories of a different time and kind of love.

It was Young and Innocent. Where nothing mattered but the moment we were in. (Remember St. Elmo's Fire?)

I wonder, does "Bobby" read my blog?

It was a different time and kind of love. But it was definitely love...