Lately, I’ve been struck with a case of nostalgia.
It got me: like an icy snowball to the face.
It stings at first, but then gets all melty and warm and lingers for a while.
Paper mâché homecoming floats have been peppering my dreams.
Bake sales and fall afternoons- turning dark and grey before school has let out- they’re in there too.
I miss the excitement of high school hallways, where the possibility of anything seemed so grand.
I miss first kisses, first cars, first game of the season.
I miss the feeling of a new school year, the smell of a new text book, I miss so many firsts.
I look around and I feel a little left behind.
When did everyone grow-up?
my own image
I got a note from an old high school friend I fall in and out of correspondence with.
He’s married now, and after nearly 10 years living out west, he’s back in the northeast.
I bought him a sled one Christmas and etched the sentiment “Happy Trails to Us,” on the outer paneling.
I knew full well we’d each take different trails after we graduated.
Hearing from him this week I felt a selfless happiness for him,
the type that sprouts from the purest part of your soul: true, happiness.
He wasn’t my first love- not even a love, really. But in a strange, unexplainable way,
it feels like the first one that wasn’t.
There is a new phase of firsts coming my way.
And maybe this takes the fun out of it but…
I only wish, I knew when.