On Being Nostalgic
I’m a very nostalgic person. I grow attached to things because of experiences. Never objects, really (besides books + music). When I say things, I usually mean physical locations. I get very sentimental and emotional when I’m at a place that holds great memories in my past. While I didn’t really enjoy college (the academic part), I will still get a happy feeling in my stomach when I step back onto campus. I feel a sense of contentment when I drive past the house I lived in until my siblings were born. I even smile when I pass the exit that leads to the first (crappy) apartment Adam and I ever lived in as a married couple.
The funny thing about it all is that I have a horrible, horrible memory. If it wasn’t captured on camera or video then I most likely don’t remember it. It’s quite odd. So while I have these warm and fuzzy feelings tied to books, music and places…I never really know what I’m remembering. Am I remembering all the fun times tied directly to photos that I’ve seen? Am I forgetting all of the worst?
So last weekend, I found myself in an emotional place. We spent a longer weekend at my family’s lakehouse in Michigan. My grandparents have owned it since I was born and I’ve spent time there at least once a year for 26 years. As my grandparents have gotten older, they decided this year to put the house on the market. I spent most of last weekend trying to reflect, conjure memories and taking pictures (in fear that I’ll forget).
I’m sure it sounds much more dramatic that it really is. But to me, it feels dramatic.
I remember looking up at the sky and thinking about how there will be so many more cherished places in my life. Someday Adam and I will buy a home. We’ll vacation at our favorite places. We’ll remember the houses we grew up in fondly. It’s okay to feel sad but it’s more exciting that I get to live my life surrounded by really amazing people. They are the reason these places are cherished.