Hometown

Gladys went back to her hometown and was struck by how flat the roofs were and how tall the palm trees, how windswept the streets and dry and sandy the soil. She had grown up on desert, sagebrush land, which had been covered with a uniform subdivision. The small working class city was bordered on the west side by an undeveloped stretch of the blue Pacific Ocean and to the south, by the city of Tijuana, Mexico. To the east there was Interstate Five, the bloodline of the West Coast. Along the north side there was a strip mall that had familiar tenants of Rexall five and dime, the Palm movie theatre that showed a double feature, including cartoons, the Big Bear grocery store that gave green stamps, Tino's barbershop, a dress shop, a pet store, an Italian restaurant with the best sausage pizza in the world, an electronics store and a furniture store.

The warm sunny town was a comfortable reality, broken up by the low staccato sound of the helicopter blades and the earth shaking booms of sonic air travel. She had grown so used to the loud ruckus that it was just white noise. Her brother and she used to ride their stingray bikes the three blocks to the barbed wire fence that surrounded the Ream Field naval base. There was a small dirt break in the row of houses that allowed for viewing the goings on of the helicopters and personnel.

The military was a huge presence within the community. Most of her classmates moved away every few years. Her close friends unconsciously came from the civilian ranks, most probably because they were around longer. Their parents sold Hostess Twinkies, were police officers or fire fighters, nurses, repaired appliances, picked up the garbage, or laid floors like her dad. They were all very much affected by the ebb and flow of the armed forces.

She had returned to her childhood home many times over the years. She had become familiar with the feeling of loss upon seeing once open spaces filled with new apartment complexes or condominiums. Cow pastures were now shopping centers with fast food restaurants. The tomato field with the help-yourself-and-leave-the-money stand had been transformed into rows of pastel painted houses. The traffic was heavier and the cars were faster. Roads were now four lane streets with a left turn section.

One time she returned to find a new freeway being constructed over Interstate Five that would take people out to the east side more quickly. The final section just hung there over the southbound lanes. All construction had stopped just short of a marshy salt water flat. A Least Tern nesting site was located there and for years the raw ends of rebar and cement weathered with the passage of time. She took great satisfaction in the thought of a small bird stopping the constant building. People still cared.

There was a richness of culture developing. Signs were in Spanish. Foods once only available across the border had found their way north. Fresh tortillas could now be bought from a tortilleria on Coronado Avenue and the rice and fruit ice creams were now local. This allowed for more frequent indulgences. Lumpia and Kim Chi could be purchased at the Wu Chi Chong grocery store that had moved into the old Safeway building.

The new town had consumed the old town. It had survived the Vietnam War, earthquakes, the gas crisis, numerous recessions, imminent domain, gang wars, protests, strikes and Pentagon cutbacks. The town had grown with its children and become a larger weaving of the original pattern with a lot more color and creativity.

This place was still so familiar to her, even with all the changes. She knew every street name and shortcut. Twenty years had past since she had left and moved to the northwest and she could still tell you how to get to anywhere. Half of her life was rooted in the tan soil of the cactus and jojoba bean terrain where rivers had names, but no water, where there were daily amber sunsets over the ocean.

She was bound to the Pacific, only moving up or down the west coast all her life. The ocean was her familiar friend that soothed any distress she experienced. It gave continuity to her life. She moved, but there was still a little bit of her hometown nearby.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the moist salt air. Her thoughts filled with memories of rising before the sun to go fishing with her sister and brother out on the pier. She remembered the cold leaving her body as the early sunrays warmed her sweatshirt and jeans. She saw herself going for a run on the beach at daybreak with her dog, Kiesha, watching the tuna boats slip along on the smooth morning sea, a flock of birds trailing after. Her favorite bird was still the seagull.

She opened her eyes and felt the mist on her face. She could make out the nearby islands, the baby blue bridge that connected the peninsula to the mainland and a small group of people walking near the edge of the surf in the distance. It was a clear day, but early morning moisture put a haze on everything. Smog control had helped the visibility. In the past the horizon had been dominated by an orange brown color. Today gave her hope.