Nostalgia

July 2017

Chlorine fills the air on a 90-degree, sunny, July day in Massachusetts. It’s just like any other summer day, each closer to having to go back to school. My feet mold to the dirt below me as I lick the wooden stick that used to be a firecracker popsicle.

“Do NOT lick that stick again, or you’re going to get a splinter in your tongue!” my mom yells across the lawn.

How did she even see me? I don’t know. I don’t really care either, because I’m ten years old and nothing bad can possibly happen to me. I don’t have to watch where I step when I’m barefoot in fear that some rock or worm might touch me, nor do I have to worry about when my next shift at work is going to be. I don’t have to think about something called the future; all I have to do is lick this popsicle stick dry. 

When the sun beams down on my face, I’m reminded that I lied about putting sunscreen on earlier and that I’ll probably get a lecture on skin cancer tomorrow. I walk up the steps into the house without drying off, even though my bright pink and orange towel was right next to me. I’ll get a lecture on that too, when my family sees the river of pool water and summer sweat leading to the fridge. 

Some feeling comes over me, a sudden wave of something that feels euphoric but also extremely sad. Cool air blasts my face, and I forget about that uncomfortable happy-sad feeling altogether until …

August 2024

Paige sits on the edge of my bed, asking if the fan is turned up all the way because “it feels like a sauna in here”. I don’t actually know, but I say it is just to make her feel better because I can’t move. I met this girl probably three days ago, and she’s already making herself at home. But I don’t mind, I can already tell she’s going to be a good friend.

Wow. It feels like a sauna in here. 

I lay with all my limbs spread out on my twin XL mattress with Paige hung over the side. When I look out the window at the sun setting, I feel overwhelmed with an oddly familiar feeling. A feeling that brought me right back to July 2017, complete with the smell of fresh cut grass from the lawn mowers that seemingly never stopped running.

They never stop running, like me when I was ten years old racing my cousins across the yard. Now, at 18 years old, I’m racing time, wishing I could turn clocks backwards. But since I can’t do that, I find myself clinging onto the “happy-sad feeling” I couldn’t name when I was younger.

Nostalgia. It comes in the form of my best friends at college; it comes when I’m walking to class blasting Coldplay, and whenever it does, I welcome the feeling with open arms.