I’m from here:
It’s a tiny little town in the middle of the desert built around a Navy base. Which I always find funny. Because we don’t have any water. But, it’s actually a very important and historical base and they invent and test bombs and things and invented the glow stick so, I mean, they’re doing stuff. We had to drive over an hour away to the nearest mall. We didn’t have chain restaurants except drive-throughs. We bought our clothes at Walmart and Kmart. We didn’t walk anywhere because it was too hot. We cooled ourselves with swamp coolers not air conditioners. We learned to drive in the community college parking lot. We set Christmas trees on fire in the desert when we were bored. We could always tell the new kids at school because when the base would make a gigantic boom that shook the classroom windows, the new kids would flinch and look around startled and us locals would just keep on working. The sounds of jets flying overhead are comforting to me; they’re the sounds of my childhood. Wind is a different thing where I’m from. It’s a viscous slap in the face leaving a trail of sand stuck to your eyelashes and lip gloss. Wind is WIND in Ridgecrest. Houses are cheap. Getting anywhere takes 5 minutes. People don’t like to pay more than $10 a plate at restaurants. And you can always see the stars. Not like the way you can see them on clear nights in the city. You can see them in Ridgecrest so clearly that you feel like you can reach out and touch them. I miss that more than anything – sitting outside at night and it’s always a little cold because it’s the desert and looking up at the sky and being surrounded by stars.