You can't go back

I went to hear a friend's band play at Vermillion Skies. It was weird going back into that narrow little cafe--beg pardon--de-cafe. And I stopped right outside the door, because, like so many other things, it reminded me of last year and Trent and april and the fact that things will never be like that again.

The artwork on the walls is different, more abstract. And the floor was cleared for all the bands performing. I ordered my Dr. Pepper creamosa and leaned with my friends against the counter. It was so loud--people talking and bands playing over the talking--and I remember it being so quiet, with the very important exception of us.

I think I'm going to start going back there, to write and to think. In a way it's become my church--a place to remember and reflect and begin again. Because (pardon the cheese), even if you can't go back, you can step forward. I think it's time I tried.