Sometimes, all I can think about is the past. Nostalgia has its way of creeping into my life for minutes at a time, and all I can do is bring back the feelings I had there and try to re-live it. I'm trying hard to work on the present, and let go of all that's behind me, but snippets of Peterborough still filter through. And it's not even as if I want to go back, right now, because if I did, the life I would experience there would not be the same as then- and I want to preserve then as well as I can.
The things I miss can't really be put into words. Is it the smell of the Quaker factory on a winter's afternoon? Is it the breeze through the maples in our old backyard, or the rain through the oak tree that I used to love? Is it sitting in a dimly lit bar on a Thursday night, nursing a drink and having the best talks with my best friends? Is it walking home alone as the snow falls all around, dreaming of others? Is it the fall nights when I used to run through the neighbourhood, the breeze on my face? Is it sitting at Natalie's or Sheena's, getting ready to go out, talking, excited, wine in hand? Is it biking to summer school along the river, feeling so free, feeling so alive? I can't pick just one of these- it's a culmination, and so many other moments besides.
It's the ones where I get a half-memory from a song I once loved, a memory of a certain touch, a certain feeling. A boy I was in love with from afar, trying to remember the night before, trying to remember that kiss. Trying to remember how it felt to be alive then, when my life could have blossomed any thousands of ways. The music I lived, the tastes, the smells.
Time now for me to live as I did then. To live with my eyes, heart and mind wide open to what I can feel and hear. And maybe if I think positive, I will get myself to that place again.
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