Memories.

Sometimes, I get these random urges to visit somewhere that I have been before. They say smell is the sense that is most closely related to memory and that makes sense. Late September and the smell of fall takes me back to South Dakota.

The end of tourist season was upon the sleepy little town of Keystone and few shops on the strip were open, but the smell of the air was mesmerizing. It was crisp and you could smell a hint of winter in the air, even though it was only the beginning of Fall (and not even officially yet.) Sometimes, though, I get an urge to go somewhere and there are no smells involved in the nostalgic urge. Tonight, it is Coronado, California.

I wish I could visit the island again. The Coronado bridge which connected the island to downtown San Diego was visible from the road and the bike path that I often found myself on back in those days. The site of the Coronado hotel, so prestigious, standing there with all of the other landmarks.

Balboa Park… across the water and over the bridge, but close enough to drive to on a day for some fun and whimsy.

I remember driving up the Silver Strand Highway some mornings belting out California Girls while watching the Pacific Island waves crash on the beach.

Pure magic.

These are all memories, locked away in my head. Life goes on, time changes things, but memories remain.

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