A scattered dream that’s like a far-off memory A far-off memory that’s like a scattered dream I want to line the pieces up Yours and mine.
- Kingdom Hearts II
Lately I’ve been thinking about nostalgia.
If you could go back to being a child, would you? Those carefree days of chasing chickens around your yard, or the urban equivalent. Don’t laugh. I really did chase chickens around my yard. It was fun. Though not very fun for the chickens, I suppose.
Ahem.
A lot of people would say yes. Turn back the clock. Bring on the fountain of youth. But if going back to childhood meant reliving every trauma and heartache you’ve gone through since, would you still want to?
By definition, becoming a child again means giving up everything that makes you an adult. For better or worse, my life has made me who I am. And I like who I am. The better parts, at least.
So I would say no. I have no wish to revisit my childhood.
More importantly, I don’t think the past is all it’s cracked up to be.
Nostalgia gives our memories a golden glow. We forget that our perspectives change over time. The house where you grew up is small and rundown. That dearly beloved video game has a wonky camera. That favorite book is stuffed with padding. You still love these things, sure. But now you see them through older eyes.
And it goes deeper than that. Going back in time means facing the core of who you are – whatever screw-ups and issues that have come to define you.
For example. I’ve always had a problem with guilt. My sharpest childhood memories are the ones where I was convinced that something was my fault. An adult’s reaction, a situation, a misunderstanding. This was rarely true. And even if it was, I was a kid. What did I know?
But even so. My mind would fixate on the most innocent things and tell me over and over, you shouldn’t have said that, you shouldn’t have done that, you should have done better.
You should have been better.
I suspect it went further than that. For a long time growing up, I had the uneasy feeling that my life was on hold. There was a clearly defined path that adolescence was supposed to take, and my life wasn’t on it. I felt trapped. If something was my fault, that meant I could have done something about it. This, at least, was within my power to change.
See how that works? What start out as coping mechanisms eventually become ingrained in one’s psyche. I think that on some level, I blamed myself because it gave me a much-needed sense of control.
If we’re honest with ourselves, going back in time isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s facing the hard stuff, too.
But that works both ways. Don’t get me wrong. I had my sunshine, too. The good old days weren’t perfect, but they were a simpler time. A time of innocence, before growing up forced us to face difficult truths. Bad things can happen for no reason. The adults we look up to are only human. Life can be far more complicated than it seems, and no one really knows what they’re doing.
Life is a mix of day and night, sun and storms. In mine, there’s been bleakness and uncertainty, doubt and depression. Those come more often than they should.
There’s also been warmth, fun and laughter. The best times of our lives are like dreams. The kind you don’t want to wake up from. And of course we do, sooner or later. We sigh and head back to reality, still looking wistfully over our shoulders, even as the dream fades into memory. We almost wonder if it truly happened at all.
These are the times we want to relive.
We can’t live in the past, though. We’re living right now. We have to look forward to tomorrow. To new dreams, and future memories.
That doesn’t mean the ones we have can’t be cherished. Memories of blue skies, and bright sunsets, and the people we care about. It’s only natural to miss those times.
Lately I’ve been thinking about nostalgia.
If you could go back to being a child, would you? Those carefree days of chasing chickens around your yard, or the urban equivalent. Don’t laugh. I really did chase chickens around my yard. It was fun. Though not very fun for the chickens, I suppose.
Ahem.
A lot of people would say yes. Turn back the clock. Bring on the fountain of youth. But if going back to childhood meant reliving every trauma and heartache you’ve gone through since, would you still want to?
By definition, becoming a child again means giving up everything that makes you an adult. For better or worse, my life has made me who I am. And I like who I am. The better parts, at least.
So I would say no. I have no wish to revisit my childhood.
More importantly, I don’t think the past is all it’s cracked up to be.
Nostalgia gives our memories a golden glow. We forget that our perspectives change over time. The house where you grew up is small and rundown. That dearly beloved video game has a wonky camera. That favorite book is stuffed with padding. You still love these things, sure. But now you see them through older eyes.
And it goes deeper than that. Going back in time means facing the core of who you are – whatever screw-ups and issues that have come to define you.
For example. I’ve always had a problem with guilt. My sharpest childhood memories are the ones where I was convinced that something was my fault. An adult’s reaction, a situation, a misunderstanding. This was rarely true. And even if it was, I was a kid. What did I know?
But even so. My mind would fixate on the most innocent things and tell me over and over, you shouldn’t have said that, you shouldn’t have done that, you should have done better.
You should have been better.
I suspect it went further than that. For a long time growing up, I had the uneasy feeling that my life was on hold. There was a clearly defined path that adolescence was supposed to take, and my life wasn’t on it. I felt trapped. If something was my fault, that meant I could have done something about it. This, at least, was within my power to change.
See how that works? What start out as coping mechanisms eventually become ingrained in one’s psyche. I think that on some level, I blamed myself because it gave me a much-needed sense of control.
If we’re honest with ourselves, going back in time isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s facing the hard stuff, too.
But that works both ways. Don’t get me wrong. I had my sunshine, too. The good old days weren’t perfect, but they were a simpler time. A time of innocence, before growing up forced us to face difficult truths. Bad things can happen for no reason. The adults we look up to are only human. Life can be far more complicated than it seems, and no one really knows what they’re doing.
Life is a mix of day and night, sun and storms. In mine, there’s been bleakness and uncertainty, doubt and depression. Those come more often than they should.
There’s also been warmth, fun and laughter. The best times of our lives are like dreams. The kind you don’t want to wake up from. And of course we do, sooner or later. We sigh and head back to reality, still looking wistfully over our shoulders, even as the dream fades into memory. We almost wonder if it truly happened at all.
These are the times we want to relive.
We can’t live in the past, though. We’re living right now. We have to look forward to tomorrow. To new dreams, and future memories.
That doesn’t mean the ones we have can’t be cherished. Memories of blue skies, and bright sunsets, and the people we care about. It’s only natural to miss those times.
It’s only natural to feel a little bit nostalgic.
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