the salt lake

This is the Great Salt Lake in guess what: Salt Lake City, Utah, taken this September. The water was very murky as expected and the day was incredibly hot, though nothing beats southern California.

Something strange happened last night as I was lying in bed waiting for sleep. I heard the distinct pitter patter of what could be rain, though the sounds were sporadic. It sounded like water from our AC dripping into the bucket we leave out to catch it, but that was downstairs in the backyard, diagonal from my bedroom window. I couldn't be hearing that from here. After a couple more erroneous theories, I finally went to the window to identify the sound. And I saw the additional patio awning my parents had built to stretch from where it left off over to my window ... four years ago. The thick grooves were catching the splashes of water. Yet five minutes ago, my memory of the house had included the incomplete patio. I've been back for a year now, and I go out back almost everyday. Why did I still think this?

And today at the public library, I sat writing in the reference section, surprised at all the books marked 2008 and 2009 around me. Somehow I still expected books from 1996 to clutter the shelves, smelling of the old and over-conditioned library I'd spent every science fair season at.

I guess I believed everything stood still here while I was away, that everything would still be in its original place when I returned. Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental, but it's a bittersweet feeling, knowing life goes on with or without you.