for the last fourteen years or so, i have made biannual trips with my father down to southern california to visit my family. my family (unlike myself) is accustomed to following routines, traditions.
we wake up when it's still dark, hoping to make good time and hit the grapevine by the lunch hour.
we spend a few days with my grandfather in oceanside, he loves to take us to buffets there. not the beach, but buffets. he is a kid at heart and drinks icees.
at the end of our short visits, grandpa stands in the garage as we make our departure, waving goodbye. this time it feels painful, i don't know when i'll see him next, the reality of moving to the the east coast is hitting me.
our next stop is my aunt ellen & uncle jeff's house in santa ana. for the fourth of july, my uncle always throws a spectacular fireworks show in the backyard that makes the trip feel truly traditional.
this trip that my father and i have been so accustomed to taking now feels sentimental...