i was watching old videos the other day. i brought one with me when we came to chicago. i sat down with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate and remembered.

it was 1988 again. first video camera. i was amazed at the technology. it recorded pictures and audio – and we could afford it.

we used the camera a lot that year. my parents taped everything, and i am so happy they did. we rode bikes, we played kickball, we danced in the living room with orange carpet and brown wood paneling. dinas voice squeaked, dana pouted, and i posed for the camera. we were best friends, only friends.

the tape jumps, scratches, and comes back on. five years later. high school footage of a dance. maybe homecoming. cheap suits and cheaper smiles. mom doesnt seem so happy, or maybe she is and she is just nervous. nervous about letting go.

i dont really cry, but i do tonight. im happy. i am now and i was then. i dont regret anything ive done, which is amazing. ive had a good life.

the video camera sits on the chair now, and it points out to me and my family. there we are, all the same, all a bit older. our friendship has wained, but we still remember.

my mom looks at us right at the end, right before the tape snaps off. she just seems so proud. she smiles and jokes with my dad.

the tapes clicks off and the tv buzzes. i get up and walk to the the glass door overlooking the snow covered pines and leafless oaks. 1988 was a good year.