oh, nostalgia you're such a frenemy

All right. I think I've nailed it down. The very best and the very worst feeling is nostalgia. It feels yummy and delicious and smells so good, yet each bite is tinged with sorrow and intense yearning. 

It's hard to explain really. It's profoundly intense. 

I actually remember feeling it for the first time when I was a child. I would leaf through our family photos and pour over those of me as a baby. I loved those photos, the colors the scenes, and I just wanted it. I don't know what I actually wanted but I wanted something. I wanted to be that little baby? Maybe. I don't know, I couldn't pin it down, and certainly couldn't articulate it.

And now here I am in Santa Cruz, the place of my birth, the setting for an epic-ly great childhood, and the home of all my beloved family members, and I am certifiably awash in nostalgia. It feels so good! Yet it tugs so hard. And the thing is, even if I were to follow that tug I wouldn't know where to go. The tug leads no where but into a mushy, indecipherable yearn. 

I'm ready for the sun and the sand, the blue skies and blue jays, but I am blindsided by the moss in the cracks of the pavement or the pill bug caught in the web. When I run the smell of eucalyptus mixed with redwoods almost stops me in my tracks. It's like this place is an old lover I think I am completely over only to find I remember, joyfully and bitterly, every step of our courtship.

So I lean. I do my best to say "oh, nostalgia you're such a frenemy" and lean into the pleasure. I look with eyes of appreciation, stopping short of what to do with my adoration, and instead simply stew in the scents, sounds, and sights. I watch the girls, playing with driftwood and popping seaweed pods, and do not file these acts in a shop-worn file of my own perfect childhood. I try anyway.

Really this is all to say, I love it here.

 

Comments

[Mahala]

Each time I visit, I wonder why on earth I ever left that wonderful amazing place. The sights, sounds and smells, Aunt Alice's soft hands rubbing my neck, her laugh and love of life...what am I doing so many miles away from a feeling of safety and security one only gets from a beloved place and loving people?
I guess I'm doing what I'm supposed to do so that I never take that love for granted.
Dang I miss my family so much.
Love ya, Hallie

[Martha]

Hi Natalie, I'm really late to this post so I'm not sure you'll even see this. But this post made me think of a novel I just read, The End of the Point, by Elizabeth Graver, just published this year. Not sure if novels are your thing but the story is about an old family summer home on Cape Cod and how various members of the family connect (and disconnect) with it through the generations. Nostalgia is a powerful force in it, and the connections between nostalgia and anger. I thought you might like it.
Hope all is well. I love catching up with your blog and your perspectives.

[Natalie Christensen]

Hi Martha!
I love books and always have a novel (or two) going. I'll search out this book as it sounds right up my alley.
I hope you are well too!