You really can’t go home again. The memories remain but the scene has changed.
Virginia Beach in the late 60s and early 70s was fun. A boardwalk, a pally where they had rollerskating one night and a dance another night. On the boardwalk were carnival games. I was banned from the rifle arcade shoot for winning too many prizes. South of town along the coast were beaches and especially dunes. We’d go down at night, dig a pit in the sand, gather driftwood and cook hot dogs and brats over the fire, followed by roasting marshmallows and some made s’mores. We drank beer and wine and watched the lights of the ships out on Chesapeake Bay. We’d skinny dip in the surf and make love among the dunes. A few were in committed relationships but most were lovers of convenience. The gals chose their partners for the night. Sort of like Kid Rock’s song “All Summer Long”. There was one girl who favored me but after she went back to college I never saw her again.
Now the dunes are replaced by cookie cutter condos. There had to be a law passed to mandate public access to the beach and now there are bar steel armored tunnels every so many buildings to allow the public to use the beach. Where there once was the boardwalk, arcade and pally, are hotels so tall that you have to look between them to see the beach from the strip.
The memories are still alive in my mind, but the X, Y, and Z are gone. Just the T remains.