Disneyland

I have to admit that I had hoped when I went to Disneyland this last weekend, it would trigger memories of my father and that I would feel him there. We went when I was little as a family vacation just a few years before he died. While I can't remember too many exact things I do remember that my dad always wanted to get there right when the doors opened and would do every ride a million times with me. I faintly remember him wearing some horrifying ugly green plaid shorts as well but that may be inaccurate.

As I was walking the streets of Disneyland, none of it seemed familiar. None of it sparked brilliant memories for me. I never felt like I was walking side by side with my dad again. And to be perfectly honest, I wanted that feeling. I wanted the sense that he was there with me; that his memory persisted there somehow.