I moved to this tiny town in 1992 at the age of ten. A few thousand people in 5 square miles, even then it seemed like there was nothing here.
Now 20 years later as i walked home from my friends place i spotted houses in places where a near 6 years ago there weren't. Just spans of dirt fields with large toughs of spherical tumbleweeds dotting the land, As i walked past the memory of one particular field that no longer exists; in the low orange hue of dusk i suddenly felt old and tired. Memories have that odd ability of transferring from only a thought to a physical pain.
I think what made the pain have a hardened edge was a song from my childhood came on my ipod at that time. In that instant i might have believed there is such a thing as time travel. It just takes an extreme set of circumstances: the right music, the correct coordinates, and bad timing.
I walked the rest of the way ignoring the music, my surroundings, and my age. I wanted to go home, but not this one, the one from 1999. Knowing that was impossible i suddenly wanted to get out and go back home to San Diego which was also impossible.
It was a weird day.