Santa Barbara

We drove and drove, Mo and I. The whole way down the windy Pacific Coast Highway, Mo’s dad talked to us. He told us about fire, and Helen Keller, and current politics. Mo asked questions, but I tuned both of them out. I thought about seeing Max again. I never thought I would be visiting him in Santa Barbara. As we slowly crept up the mountain, I grew more and more excited. Coming to a stop, I see Max skip up to the car, his face taken over by a smile. On our way to lunch, I had never seen Max this way. He was giggling at everything. Every few seconds he would poke me and wave like a little five year old. Getting out of the car, the three of us walked down the street laughing and all holding hands. It was like he never left. He seemed as though he hadn’t changed at all. When he walked through the boarding school, everyone knew him and everyone wanted to talk to him. He knew all the seniors and they all loved him. By the end of the day I realized how different it was at home without him, but he reminded me that in only two weeks he would be home again.