A few weeks ago, J, my sister and I took a day trip to our old stomping grounds, White Rock Beach. So much had changed in our hometown and it made me a bit sad to see all the development; the enormous houses jammed onto tiny lots, stop lights where once there were none, and quaint old structures dwarfed by new condos – some places were unrecognizable and I even took a few wrong turns in a place that I used to know so well. * Sigh. But despite the inevitable growth of the city and dwindling charm, there was something that remained so perfect; and for the most part, intact. The East beach is still home to my favourite fish and chips joint Moby Dick’s – and that particular strip of beach is still pretty old school. There’s not many places (other than certain chain restaurants) that I can say I’ve frequented for nearly my entire life. But Moby Dick’s has been around since the late seventies. And so have I :-). I went to school with a boy whose parents (at the time) ran the place, and I remember them sending us fish and chips after my mom had a baby (which one, I don’t know). And even though ownership has changed hands and the colour has been swapped from white to bright blue, it’s that greasy-good taste and tartar sauce served in a beer box that brought back flashes of childhood. The smell of hot beach rocks, salty air and seagulls surfing the breeze that culminated to create a sweet moment of nostalgia and contentedness. Toss in a giggling four-year-old chasing down seagulls and some time spent with my sister and call it a great day. Those moments. They are the ones.