I hadn't heard that song in a long time. Hadn't really listened to it anyway. And then I'm driving home, alone, high off a spliff and a glass of champagne and one of wine under my belt. Not glowing, not drunk, just humming along when the song comes on, and immediately my thoughts fly to her. It's so silly strange how that comes too be. Some slow song about a girl that I used to listen to way back when I used to be in love. That's all it takes for the memories to flood back. Sitting in cars on young nights, smoking bowls, not spliffs, and watching the planes take off from LAX. Talking about nothing for hours until we'd pass out in our own seats. Secrets from Mammoth. Sneaking into her room when her parents were asleep. And then I think to myself how long ago that was. She's not that girl anymore, and I'm not that boy either. We've grown. We've changed. There's been a country between us. But the thing is, we're not altogether different, I don't think. She still has problems drinking milk.
