The Rickety Suitcase

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A Cup of Frozen Yogurt & Memories

Pinkberry at Farmers Market 

I am back in Los Angeles!! Although I'm not here as a permanent Angeleno, I'm so happy to be back in the City of Angels for 3 weeks. This is where I spent 5 very crucial years of my life. This is where I spent 4 years as an undergraduate student. This is where I had my first full-time job as a fresh grad. This is where I came to learn how to love, although still a beginner at that. This is where I broke my heart. This is where I laughed the loudest and cried the hardest. This is where random intersections trigger flashbacks and otherwise mundane objects set nostalgia in motion.

What prompted me to write about this post was an innocent cup of frozen yogurt from Pinkberry. I wasn't craving for just any frozen yogurt; I was specifically longing for Pinkberry's original and pomegranate flavored frozen yogurt with the oh-so-rich milk chocolate crunch, which at 50c per scoop, is a bargain. 

As my taste buds were thanking me for the orgasmic sensation the sweet and tangy Pinkberry frozen yogurt brought about, my mind wandered off way back into the past. 

Let me tell you where it had wandered off to. I was suddenly back to Los Angeles, spring 2010. I was sitting on the couch of my living room, pouting and not at all in a good mood. I started shivering a little bit, as I usually do when I'm angry, when the doorbell rang. Standing at the doorstep was my boyfriend at the time, holding a transparent plastic bag with Pinkberry's green logo on it. We were having an argument that I no longer remember what about, and that cup of frozen yogurt was his way of offering a truce. You can imagine the dilemma; I was still annoyed at him yet I wanted the frozen yogurt. Badly. The guy had barely ever walked into a Pinkberry store on his own but there he was, remembering what I like and being all sweet trying to assuage my anger. Also, the frozen yogurt looked so good it was calling out my name. So then, I let him in.

When I opened the lid, to my dismay, the toppings he picked for me were all wrong. He got none of it right. They were not what I would order whatsoever. However, instead of getting more agitated, I burst into laughter and decided right then that I was no longer mad at him. 

We are no longer together. Haven't been since forever. I'm not going to lie, the first few months following my heartbreak weren't pretty. I had a difficult time putting myself together and even regretted that relationship ever happened. People say everything happens for a reason yet I couldn't seem to understand the reasons behind that heartbreak and the suffocating bitterness that accompanied. Why the hell did I get into that relationship where the consequences afterwards far outweighed the pros?

It wasn't until much later, when I regained my sanity, that I have finally come to terms with it. I might not know the exact lessons I'm supposed to take from it but all I know is that I was so happy that spring of 2010. I remember being so content I really couldn't ask for more. Literally. I think that was the first time I knew what it means not wanting for anything else in my life, that apparently it wasn't just some bullshit to feel that life could be complete. And maybe that reason alone is more than enough.

I'm writing this post not because I still have lingering feelings or grudge against him. It's the other way around. I am just simply grateful for the memories. It's crazy what a thing as simple as a cup of frozen yogurt can elicit. It's amazing how it's still the same frozen yogurt, and yet so much has changed since then. I'm no longer that 16-year-old girl who tasted Pinkberry for the first time right after my driving lesson in Westwood area (Oh yes, when you're a minor, you have to take driving lessons to get a driving permit). Funny how our minds view things and what they associate those things with.

I bet you weren't expecting to read a heart-to-heart session by yours truly. Sorry I don't come with a warning label. Gives you a little insight to my spontaneous messy mind, huh?

Los Angeles will always hold a special place in my heart. For me, that song Dig by Incubus will forever remind me of that period when I just got here to begin the next phase of my life as a college student. I still remember cruising along the 405 Highway sitting in the passenger seat, my sister driving us to our destinations. As a matter of fact, I bonded with my siblings over the years we spent living under the same roof in LA after being scattered in different parts of the world before. It's ironic how it actually took me leaving LA to realize that I love this city. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.

Did I also mention this is where I met my awesome friends whom I miss too much for words?