@sydneyquin
Time had moved differently in New Jersey, a few weeks feeling like a year, the distance from home, from his job, his truck, and his dog, had felt wide and endless. It was a necessary vacation, the letter from his mom after so many years not something he could’ve justifiably ignored, the pretense creating something like anxiety gone tense excitement — being there, after so many years, he had wondered if he’d deteriorate in the old environment, fall back into being the man he once was, the one he now cowered from, disowned. He had been pleased, the sharp tang of Newark airport and the shine of a nervous smile on his mother’s face in the car waiting outside, to find that he had arrived instead as the new person he’d become after six years in Golden.
The trip had been nice, the old neighborhood unnerving but on the come-up, new buildings and stores, old landmarks renovated or demolished, the old haunted building outside his childhood bedroom included. It was a welcome sight. Things had gone well, the goodbye ultimately bittersweet, a long hug and a promise that she’d come visit him next time, though he didn’t expect it to be anytime soon. They’d made progress, but there was still a left lot to work on.
Now, standing in the tiny building that was Golden’s airport he felt more at peace than he had in a long time, the air cleaner and the fall sun seemingly brighter, perhaps because he knew what was here waiting for him — his two favorite girls, Sydney and, of course, Sunny. He steps out of the building with his suitcase in tow, eyes squinting into sun and welcoming the cold air, a very Canadian juxtaposition that hints a smile on his lips as he searches for the glint of Sid’s car.
