25 March 2020

53//365


53//365

once

we passed an old drive-in movie theatre on our way to a fleamarket in texas. my cousin, who'd driven this way countless times, flew past it with nary a mention. I, on the other hand, thought my eyes might pop out of my head. so beautiful my heart beat a little faster at the sight of it, so perfect it did not seem real. all I had time to do in the moment was point and gasp.

on the way back, I asked if we could stop. we were in a bit of a hurry but my cousin indulged me, pulled the car into what was left of the entrance. as I got out to take a closer look she mentioned she'd stopped once before for a yard sale and had talked with the owners, actually, who lived in the little brick house right next to the drive-in. as it turned out, it had been in their family for decades. they'd tried to keep the starlight alive as long as they could, they really tried, but finally had to let it go.

so, there it sits. a golden beacon of nostalgia set along a mostly forgettable stretch of texas highway. an american poem. the beginning of a song, maybe, or the end of one.

2 comments:

  1. I have heard rumors that drive-in theaters are coming back... Wouldn't that just be so lovely. We have one here, very near our house. Going there just feels like summer to me. I would be devastated if it wasn't here. Drive-ins just make people happy. Thank you for sharing this beautiful image and your summery story. Felt like I needed this today.

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  2. This is just beautiful. We have a Drive in and nearby that we make sure to go to every summer and I can't imagine summer without it.

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