By Sydney Goldberg
I’m thankful. Thankful I am home for Thanksgiving break, even if there are zero skateboarders around these parts. Even if my only companion is a battered iPod mini with Ice Cube‘s It Was a Good Day song playing on repeat.
My board sifts through the crackling fall leaves at the bottom of the hill. I kick the longboard up the steep side because I’m too lazy to push. At the top, I drop into a downhill tuck and descend. I am thankful for the speed and the courage I developed on the winding southern Indiana streets.
But it’s just not the same. Not one face at the skatepark is recognizable here. When I was 13, a 45 degree Chicago fall day was a heat wave. Now the younger generation’s boards lay in a freezing garage as the trucks rust, and the devotion is lost.
My mother constantly reminds me this could be my last “Gobble Gobble Day” here. A tradition. A tradition that evokes feelings of stomachs filled with sugary sweet potato casserole with caramelized pecans and a post-thanksgiving skateboarding session with my cousin. Each year less guests attend, and my cousin doesn’t skate anymore. We are grownups now.
I’m graduating from college in one semester, and each skate down Buffalo Grove road is bittersweet. Who knows where my job hunt will take me? The future is uncertain but I’m ready.
Sydney Goldberg is a senior at Indiana University studying Journalism, Studio Art, and Art History. Twitter me ♥