Flashbacks

A couple days ago I went to Carl's Jr. After finishing all but the little bit of Sprite and the ice in the cup, I left it in the truck. A few hours later, on my way home, I grabbed the cup to sip the remains of my drink earlier. The mostly-water-but-Sprite-flavored liquid hit my tongue.

Almost as realistically as a time-traveling, cartoon vortex, I found myself sitting in a gold toyota. I was in the passenger seat with my dad, parked in a neighborhood in provo, finishing a whopper before kick-off. Greg Wrubel's voice was examining the game weather conditions, and it had taken so long for me to finish the massive burger that there was just a small mixture of melted ice and sprite in the bottom of my cup. With painful realization, I found myself slamming back down into the present, sitting in my truck, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

I miss BYU football.

Yesterday I took advantage of the chance to drive our Mazda rather than the truck and plugged my ipod into the tape converter. With the ipod on shuffle, I found myself listening to "Sunny Days" by Jars of Clay. With the same reality previously described, I was transported into a small, white-and-purple glastron boat on a 90 degree summer day. I was laying in the bow of the boat, listening to the stereo play a CD entitled "Lake Favorites." My muscles were completely exhausted, having taken a beating the previous two or three days of the lake trip. My original sunburn was turning into a nice tan and I was with a few of my favorite people in the world.

I miss waterskiing.