I sat in lecture today for three hours, learning about memory and the functions that drive our nostalgia.
I began to think of all of the memories I have stored in my brain, and all of the memories I almost forgot about. Memories from my childhood, memories from my awkward teenager years, memories in general.
Such as spending hours upon hours of playing at the park when I was younger, or full days of hanging out, running around, and playing games with my friends in Junior High.
Making music videos, reality T.V. shows, videos of myself playing clarinet, videos of cute pictures of animals and cool pictures of video game characters.
All of these things don’t exist anymore, aside from the vague memories I have, and the vague memories my friends have. Because we deleted everything we made, or the files or CD’s are long-lost in the garbage.
A part of me wishes we did have them, so we could view them and have them forever.
A part of me is anxious we don’t have them, because they are golden memories, parts of my life and snippets of younger days that I view with complete fondness and admiration.
These were times when we didn’t think as much, knew how to enjoy ourselves because we didn’t question how to enjoy ourselves, and were by definition, in blissful youth.
But then when I truly think about it, I recognize that living is not about being able to admire the past. Rather, it is about being able to admire the present.
Because although I was definitely a happy kid, I was not thinking in the golden hue or yellow light our nostalgia often paints our memories in.
And really, memories aren’t meant to be something tangible. They just give us a scope into ways of appreciating the lives we lived, and connecting with the people who played the major casts in those past lives.
Memories exist in us, and in those we shared them with.
And remind me to appreciate the present, because it will, undoubtedly, become the nostalgia I am lucky to have.