You never know what it’s gonna be.

That brings you home, closes a circle inside of you in regards to a place. Reminds you what it’s what really was.

For me, today…it was milk. Whole. Inna a glass bottle.

There’s a spot by the canals. Right near where I first touched down here. Midway between the beach and Erewhon, basically. Cool establishment. Always. Epic wines. Parties, all the things you’d need to entertain like you were living the life, Venice-style.

But there were many a day back in olden times that I would’ve given my kingdom for the horse it was going to take me riding to grab some milk for breakfast that wasn’t already in a latte, or gonna cost me a pegged leg. I used to TREK for goatmilk at trader joes every few days for the adventure of it feeding my book babies[ I was in 3rd draft mode] and would have to go all the way over to the trader joes next to the steps before Erewhon started carrying it, marked up a third.

… I felt the nudge to just pop into this spot, back for the teeniest staycation on the canals. For old times sake. For the dance.

The evolution of life is them having milk in glass bottles, even chocolate, top shelf, First things you see when you enter its hushed sanctuary… & it costing like under $6. In 2026. No deposit.

Right next to a couple dozen eggs. Like the homestead that is the canals came together and went “For the love of gawf, man! Don’t make me hafta walk all the way over to abbot Kinney!lol” loud enough to change things.

I’d grabbed vanilla gelato coming in.

(How “worst-case, I’ll make an adffogato” non worst case is That for ya? lol) But I felt the forehead kiss in all of that. All these lil special things lined up like bendecirs. Lil “glad you said its”, even.