It’s been a long time, San Jose

When I was a kid, I used to think everywhere was just like San Jose. Miles and miles of grassy green lawns, plain wooden houses crammed with families and children, sun-bleached strip malls on every corner.

That was what the world meant to me. Playing basketball with the wrong type of ball on the school blacktop, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the teacher, that was how I spent my days.

Is that how everybody grew up?

Trace

We go through the world, and we make friends. We travel far-away places, we see grand monuments, we try new things. When you’re young, that’s how you live your life.

But in the midst of all that, of all the people you meet and the things you do, there’s always a question that just sits in the back of your head:

Did I do it right?

Coco

I used to hate cameras. What’s the point? Just look at whatever you’re taking a photo of with your own bloody eyes, and let your memory do the hard work.

But memories fade, and things change. Will you remember what your bedroom looks like? Will you remember what your school looks like? Will you remember what your parents’ faces look like? It just won’t be the same, years later.

Florida

There’s a giant staircase that goes up the side of a hill in Los Angeles. It’s called the Culver City Stairs, and by giant, I really do mean that. Not only is it a long staircase, but the steps themselves are gigantic — if you ever end up taking the trail, you’ll curse the creators as you postpone leg day until tomorrow. You’ll get to the end, and pant gallons of air as you stare across the incredible expanse of Los Angeles. It’s billions of plain houses and shiny skyscrapers in every direction. If you’re lucky, you might even be able to look for miles into the Pacific.

If you take a look back down the staircase, there’s an endless procession of people coming up — joggers, athletes, children, rarely tourists — it’s a local affair. But there’s never anybody at the top.

Pi

I was hiking a couple of weeks back in the hills near Malibu. If you’ve never been in the area, there’s a gigantic red-orange rock that sticks out of the hillside and arches over the valley below. At the top, I came across this tree, growing straight out of the rock. Here’s a picture, and two stories to go along with it:

This tree had the most terrible of luck — as a seed, it was blown away from its compatriots, onto a inhospitable rock with little water and shelter. It eked out a meager lonely existence, pushing its toughened roots into the stone and dust.

-or-

This tree was a pioneer — as a seed, it bravely set out from its home, until it landed onto this far away rock. Here, there was plenty of sunlight to soak up and space to grow, away from the shady crowded valleys. Here, the tree could thrive.