I was listening to a song on the radio today. The lyrics took me back to a time when I was 9 years old, living in Houston, Texas. My parents were barely 30, young ex-pats enjoying life in the South to the fullest.
There was not a specific day that stands out, but more a montage of typical things we did. The heat, the accent falling off the tongue, the larger than life attitude we all had. It was a good time for my whole family to become closer whilst embracing so many new things at the same time.
Then I shot back to present day and pondered the fact that my daughter is also 9 years old. I wondered, will she have fond memories of this age? Or will it be more of a feeling, wrapped around certain events? Will these be her “good old days”?
The walk down memory lane was a reminder of how quickly time passes. I certainly don’t feel that young anymore, but it is hard to reconcile my real age, with how I feel. It is also more of a sombre realization around how quickly time is counting down.
My feelings of nostalgia were flashing between my childhood and my daughters. I almost envisioned what she would think about when she too becomes a grown woman. Maybe a Katie Perry song will put her right back to this house in White Rock, to the neon green cover on her first iPod.
Many people write about nostalgia with a pessimistic attitude. But if you remember a single event or a stretch of time, fondly, that doesn’t mean everything else was perfect. It is just where your mind wants to go. Who would want to have a brain that only remembers bad stuff?