I remember going on hikes in Wildcat Canyon, a bright spot nestled in the gloom of Richmond, California.
I remember slow drives on Arlington, a scenic route to BART.
When you see the blue sign that welcomed you to El Cerrito, the nice homes on Arlington get even nicer.
You look down the hill, you can see everything.
Yet, you see nothing.
I remember the seagulls that perpetually circle the sky above
I remember the steam that rose from the towering pipes of the Chevron refinery.
I remember the novelty of the Albany Hill.
“What a strange hill,” I’d say to myself.
Then I remember smiling.
I remember sitting alone in my car on the very top of the parking structure at BART, daydreaming, that one day, I’d never have to leave this spot.
I’d sit there and feel content in the delusion of solitude.
I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. And in that moment, I’d feel what I imagine it is to be free.