I am a nostalgic person. No doubt about it. You know you are when:
A: You have a beyond freakish tendency to memorize dates. Ask what happened on today or any given date, and I can recite what happened X amount of years ago, easy.
B: You keep track of time, ie; you always recall what happened 6 months ago, a year ago, etc. You see time in a linear fashion.
Yep. I hold memories, good and bad, close to me. I don’t need to physically write down important days or events; my mind does it all for me. This is equally amusing, irritating, and sometimes painful. The best memories of my life—time at the barn, road trips with dad, triumphant wins in tennis, college, etc.—I know the dates for. But painful and awkward times are easily retained too. A certain anniversary passes by, and I’m either aglow with warm and fuzzy memories, or silently brooding over a sad event.
Most often however, nostalgia I find as a comfort. So it comes as no surprise that I’m usually not a big fan of New Year’s: like a dear friend, I’m reluctant to say farewell to a happy or spectacular year. Why should I have to say goodbye to a particular timeframe in which I was happy, content with everything? A new year means says going goodbye, stepping into something new. New Year’s means change, which can be scary. When I was younger, New Year’s was my least favorite holiday.
This New Year’s Eve, however, is different. It’s been a challenging year to say the least, but 2017 certainly had it great moments. Chiaroscuro, the Italian art term for contrasts in lighting, light and dark: this year was it. I got to spend one last glorious summer with my boy, Flash, knowing all too well that I’d be, and was the one, to make that final decision to let him go. To choose the how and when and why of his means of passing. To arrange, while he was still alive, how and when he would be buried. To sign a contract stating that I understood the manner and date of burial.
So I’m more than ready for a new year. Bring it. Am I nostalgic for those last months I spent with Flash? God yes. Of course I am, and will forever be. But then again, I have a lifetime of happy “Fuzzy” memories, literally. I’ve always imagined that each cherished memory is like a precious, rare gemstone. My heart then, is studded with these “gems.” There’s a countless amount of “Flashy” gems. Tennis gems. Happy childhood, loving family gems. Call it cheesy or what have you, but that’s how I picture memories.
To conclude (what, is this an academic paper? Haha!), I say cheers to 2018. Let’s strike it rich with more gems. My nostalgia will never fade, but a new feeling of hope, or maybe just being…well, antsy, impatient, restless–for something new, some sort of change, pervades. Le tiemps viendra: the time will come.
~LMC