My parents used to live near the beach, when there was a racetrack across the street. Now, houses are there, painted in too many colours. We walk slowly down the boardwalk and my mother points out trees to my father – “This one is so big now!” She tells me that when she was my age, when everything was new, she dreamed of living in the little building in the last photo, just her and her dog and the beach and the lake.
When I was growing up, we called it The Beaches. Now it’s unfashionable. Now it’s just The Beach. But I can’t do it. Just like I will say “SkyDome” forever, until nobody remembers what I mean.