Life of a Saltine

I’m sitting on the beach.  The rainstorm has passed and the clouds are parting slightly to let in streams of late afternoon sunlight.  The Atlantic Ocean unfolds and stretches ahead of me and away from me.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath in: I smell the SALT air.  I grasp at the sand and feel the SALT between my fingers.  I lick my lips: SALTy.  I open my eyes and see the SALTy spray as the waves crash upon the shore.  I can even hear the hissing of the SALT and sand as the water retreats back into the giant SALTy abyss: “SSSSSsssssssssss!”

I’m sitting on the Connecticut shore next to my 5-year-old niece, Maya.  All of a sudden, a double rainbow appears in the sky, like magic.  As she ponders the idea of whether or not there are two pots of gold instead of just one, I think to myself:

“WTF!!!  Am I not on vacation here?!?! Why am I still thinking about work?!  Double Rainbow?  What’s in that drink again?  Josh is leaving?!?  Where the hell is he going??  Why am I fantasizing about Kurtis and those damn skinny jeans?!?! I miss AnnieBanannie! I miss Chef Nate and his squeaky pubescent voice!!  I have an idea for that darn outside service station!!!  Is Bradford really bald, or it that a fashion statement?  Is heirloom tomato season REALLY overlapping peach season??  Mikey Joyce is somewhere nearby across Long Island Sound visiting friends in the city.”  Hey!! Fahgettaboutit!!!!  But I can’t…….

I can’t escape 11th and Pearl.  And then it hits me.  I don’t want to escape.  I love it there.  And I love everyone who works there.  Boulder is no longer my ‘home away from home’.  Boulder—The Bubble, The People’s Republic of-is my home.  And SALT is the wood-burning hearth of my home.  See y’all soon!  XXXXXxxxxooooOOOO Lauren