Nostalgia isn’t a burden for me; I embrace it. I’ve detailed my struggle with living in the now, the constant spin prevents my ability to stand still even for a moment in my current place. As much as I worry about what is to come, there is a quite deference to nostalgic moments, honoring the significance of previous experiences, the comfort and guidance of my past provides me with a place to seek refuge.
Many of these memories are embedded in different emotions, some ordinary, while others more monumental. The experiences I carry with me are of my Mom braiding my hair before school while I watched the Gilligan’s Island or of my father telling me that I would survive Computer Science, even though Pascal sounded like more of a name of a pet than a computer language. There were many nights when we did ice cream runs, my father always ordering Butterscotch, while I ordered Peppermint. Watching football games with my sister on a Sunday afternoon, while we ate Subway sandwiches is another moment I recall when I think about reaching my arms out to the past.
Other memories are with my husband, when we knew only the love of one another, strolling in the streets of Nice or or studying in the library, side by side. Now on either side of me, is my husband and my daughter. Her teeth falling out in the recent weeks, leaves me nostalgic for a grin that had no space. She walks with me, the days of swaddling and carrying her something I only experience through pictures.
I wonder if I will be nostalgic for this time. I look at the grins in the picture, my daughter cradling both me and my husband. These captured smiles graced are holiday cards this years, a picture that my husband took by setting up the camera on several pillows and timing it just right. The grins were a result of at least five takes of the same shot, hoping that one would make the cut for the annual holiday card.
Perhaps as a woman removed ten years from now, I will look at that picture and those smiles, seeking refuge.
Happy Holidays to you and yours. May you seek refuge. In the now. Or in the past.