As I took the intersection from University to 30th, I was broadsided by the bite of sulphur and it immediately reminded me of the Weyerhauser plant that sat at the center of Valliant. The smoke stack was always spewing across the field, in view just past the dead horse apple tree. Every summer, our family reunion would take place at the pavillion on the Weyerhauser grounds. It'd take a good 20 minutes or more for your brain to tare itself so the rotten egg smell didn't ruin the sweet tea, various cold salads, or red velvet cake. When we came home on Christmas night, there'd be the faint smell on all of your new socks or whatever you happened to get (usually socks).

When I made the quick turn back onto 30th/Fern, I looked to my left and saw an old Dodge truck (the kind with the neato curved back corner windows) being loaded up with ice by two men. "Big Lou" was spray painted across both doors and I smiled, considered taking a photo, and got excited about a baby whose parents I haven't even met yet.

On my way to Market St. I crossed the 94 and slowed down so while I watched the skyline through the chainlink fence I could listen to the cars whir by below; their tires sounding like tiny speeding rail cars on the broken freeway asphalt. Cuh-cuh. Dun-dun. Absentmindedly I said your name aloud to myself the entire block.

Even downtown, something felt nice about the alarmed young policeman with premature salt-and-pepper hair who was examining what appeared to be two old desktop computers completely demolished tucked between two Boxwoods near the post office entrance. I thought, "I have to see if someone reads about a bomb scare or something of the sort in the paper." Even my empty post office box didn't phase me.

Finally on my way home, waiting at the light at 8th and Market, I looked down the blocks past myriad construction sites of what I can only imagine will be gross condos. I saw the baseball stadium through the coastal haze. "Hm. There's still a bit of baseball left this year."

I got home and felt it was a good day for an RC Cola. I even wore a white t-shirt as I walked to the corner store.