By chris-chris92 on Skatehive
Lately I have been returning in small accidental ways to pieces of myself I thought I had outgrown, and nothing brings that feeling more sharply than standing at the San Diego Skate Park watching these kids move across the concrete like the place belongs to them. The first time I held a skateboard I was too shy to admit I had no idea what I was doing, but the moment the wheels rolled beneath me something loosened inside. I was never good, not even close, but the act of trying made me feel part of a world that didn’t demand explanations. Seeing these kids now pulls that old sensation back with a weight I didn’t expect. The cracked surface of the bowl, the worn-out rails, the way the boards hit the ground with that unmistakable snap, all of it reminds me of afternoons when I chased a feeling I couldn’t name yet. I watch them as the sun stretches the shadows thin, and I recognize the reckless honesty of learning to move in a place that doesn’t forgive hesitation. After years of drifting b