Coffee and memories. What a sneezy, nostalgic way to spend the morning. Thanks chasingrabbits, for the idea btw.
I found my own box of old letters. There are letters from people that I love intensely that I haven’t seen in years in it. I’d thought that feeling fades after awhile and that you get used to not seeing or hearing from them (whether its because you lost touch or they did). But that’s wrong. What you get is scar tissue -easily broken and only faintly covered in dust. All it takes is to read a letter from that person – in their hand – detailing some trivial bit of life. And *wham* all those portals are blown open. Memories, good and bad come crowding back into your brain. Gee, whiz! We haven’t been here in awhile! Let’s party!! We were away but now we’ll be taking up most of your attention. Hurts, doesn’t it?
Brian, standing up in the movie theatre yelling at the dumb blonde on the screen. “What’s out there? It’s the Evil fucking Dead, ya idjit! Dinchoo read the fucking script?”
Derek and I kissing, his parents 10 scant feet away behind a partially closed door. Hearts racing, fear in drops all over our faces.
Missy, showing up at school with the mohawk. A 6 foot Nordic goddess with spikes,safety pins and diamonds. And later crying in the girl’s bathroom because someone had made fun of her.
Me, in boot camp opening the care package from Brian. He’s sent four pounds of Oreo cookies and tapes of the punk rock that I loved.
Excerpt from the letter that accompanied *that* box.
“you never told me what tape to buy with your 10 dollars. Could I buy a stiletto instead? Please”
From Derek, “…I spend everyday in a melancholy haze, remembering the curve of your body in the way that a child runs his tongue over the hole left by a recently removed tooth; or a veteran grabs for a falling object with a limb that’s no longer there…”
A lot of those letters are from when I was in Boot Camp. They detail the thoughts and feelings of people that I had left behind. I had run away from everything. I was so overwhelmed that summer by college, Derek, friends, parents. Everyone seemed to want something from me. And I wasn’t sure that I could give it. And so I rabbited.
I think that act, more than anything is what set off a whole snow-bally happenstance chain of events that wound up with me here and now. I am not complaining. I *like* my here and now. But, sometimes I am curious about those un-taken paths.
3 thoughts on “Nostalgia and Cheese, Nostalgia and Cheese! (isn’t there a punk song with those lyrics?)”
Emotions can’t tell time, honey. As far as the right brain is concerned, it’s all happening right now.
I went through my box of Chris stuff when I moved in here – it had been shut away for a year and a half. Didn’t know how I’d feel about it, so I thought I’d find out. Not surprisingly, I laughed at some stuff and cried at others. I remember where I was when I received each of those things, and what they meant to me.
Time didn’t change what they meant, even though I’m someone else now.
Time heals all wounds, my right toe.
I think the only thing Time does it just contain them in some vast Bag of Holding (DnD reference, for the unitiated) until you stumble across some visual clue of it. Then it slaps you in the head with the preserved emotions.
Yah. I think that’s one reason why shame and guilt work as well as they do. Thbbpt.