by, 08-24-2013 at 09:03 PM (3791 Views)
I know too much nostalgia is not a good thing; It causes one to long, in an unhealthy way, for things past and dwell on times that will never again be. I know the Lords wants us to stay in the here-and-now, because that's where he is! But, today I tumbled into it as though nostalgia was a place and I accidentally walked through the entry. It was not true nostalgia for I was in a place holding no special memories or events in my life, so on an emotional level I have never been there before.
This day, late August, is in the midst of a time period we used to refer to as "dog days." My dad had told me years ago, that they were called this due to many stray dogs roaming in the area going "mad" in the unrelenting heat. However, this is not the case today; the skies are clear baby blue with the occasional white puffy cloud playing around. No humidity dragged at me as I walked from the parking area; a balmy breeze occasionally ruffled my hair and kissed my neck with its sweet breath. I dodged the bees hanging around the multitude of apple trees; the birds were happily screaming their songs.
I was at an event for all former graduates and friends of our local county high school; that in itself could have called forth an undying yen for the "old days!" But, it didn't. I like looking with rear view glances toward my past, the fun days, but not in a depressing way, nor do I experience earnestly wanting to be there again. I am "almost always" happy with my "now."
There I was, walking toward the picnic shelter wondering if I dressed "ok" to suit the ladies, or would they even notice. I made the hard choice to be casually comfortable rather then casually chic; as the grass tickled my toes, I was glad I had.
Then it hit, the day in all of its glory; the afore mentioned sky, temperature, and now there was music playing chase with the frisky wind, and sounds of laughter. Hot dogs, coke, chips and peach ice cream eaten by friendly people. It was as though I had embraced this day long ago and it had come back to hug me and beg me to linger awhile. There was a mood in the ambiance.
The day itself was my indulgence, and I reveled in it. I took in deep breaths of the scents of an orchard long forgotten; in a strange ardor, I decided it held passionate sway over me. It carried me on wings of remembrances to places I could have, would have, but, in reality, never visited. I felt as though I was venturing on another day, the place it took me to was interesting and alluring.
I experienced a small, strange excitement when the bee flew buy, I felt we were old acquaintances; the dried grass I pulled from between my toes had been there before and the birds teasing song had a "come play with me again" hidden deep within the melody. I was compelled to wander around in my emotions and imaginings. I was happy to return to this "new" place and I yearned to experience this more than once; I desired to re-live the un-lived. I wondered if I had tripped over someone else's' memories and yearnings. Nonsense! Get a grip before you can't find your way back home. It lasted only moments, but what a strange adventure.
The little nine-year-old girl was belting out old and new country hits with a robust style and flare while "Wildman" kept the beat on a flat top guitar, she was good; she will be really good when she grows big enough to fit her boots. The over-sized leather came to mid- shin and made her legs look like tooth picks, but her top half looked like a teenage wanna'-be "diva," then I saw her Mother… all of this thinking, and reflecting on the words of the song the "almost baby" girl was singing, brought me back to reality, and the day. The real day was waiting for me; without a backward glance I jumped in and enjoyed it, I made it mine!
I made a vow to myself, the next time I feel a wave of nostalgia, a longing for the past, mine or someone else's; I'm gonna' duck and let it roll right past me while I head for firm ground, and my solid rock!
Don’t always be asking, “Where are the good old days? ”Wise folks don’t ask questions like that.
The Message (MSG)