I have a nostalgic soul. I’ve gotten much better about it in the last few years than I used to be, but every once and a while I come across a place, a time, or a thing that makes my heart ache. Those who know me well know that I can easily prattle on forever about the people in my past, telling stories that mean something only to me. I can go a long time without thinking about anybody from my past, but then I’ll have a dream and it’ll stick to me like glue.
I think it bothers me a little (a lot) that these people who I thought I poured my soul out to have all disappeared and cannot think for a moment about me. I have trouble understanding how people can just drop their entire lives and move away, but then again I am a peculiar person. I am happy to pick up the pieces where I left off and apologize for things that might not matter until I get a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach as the conversation lulls. An ache that says “you aren’t wanted here” and “this was a mistake”. It’s the sort of thing you can tell in an instant, in a heartbeat. So these people who I have loved, of whom I have precious memories, are the specters I carry in my soul.
When I dream of them, I wonder desperately – why? When they pop in my mind, I try to push them away. And yet… and yet there is a still small voice that pulls on me. It is a memory of simpler times, or roaring laughter, and of the people that haunt me still.
I dreamt of one of these spectres on Thursday, and I have been carrying that question in my chest since then, even as the images of the dream begin to fade.
So these are my three strongest ghosts. One I have abandoned, one I have lost, and one abandoned me. I love them all anyway, though it’s been many years since I’ve seen them, and perhaps I never will again.
L’amour toujours, mes amis.
(Look at how young they were – the newest of these pictures was taken 12 years ago!)
“What kinds of experiences stir emotions for the past within you?” – Daily Post (Nostalgia), Oct. 1, 2016