04/10/2025: Stargazing From My Trampoline
Last night my heart was aching for simpler times. I like to believe that we all have that age, that place in time where we were perfectly content and innocent. A time where everything was exactly as it should be, and problems were on some distant and unreachable horizon.
Sometimes I get a wave of nostalgia so strong that it almost brings a tear to my eye. Something as simple as remembering the dance moves to a number from my favorite adolescent musical, or the words to an old song long forgotten. And I think some of the sadness that comes with those sudden rushes of pure and unexpected joy is due to the fact that I don’t have people to share that nostalgia with. Either that, or the people I used to share these things with are off living their own lives now, and I have no clue whether or not they remember things like this, or if life has robbed them of the ability to go back to better times.
As I write, I find myself reminiscing on so many things: all nighter game sessions with friends and family; countless sleepovers; singing and dancing in my childhood room and laughing and waking up the whole house; passing notes in school; journal swapping with my childhood best friend who also happened to be my cousin; biking and skating in the house; stargazing from my trampoline; looking at old yearbooks with my best friend next door; all the fun birthday parties with all the themes and decorations at Nana’s house; the skating rink; being able to just walk outside and be in nature; all the rides through the pasture with Papa and my cousins where we begged him to jump the little hill at the bottom of the big one; poolside sandwiches and night swimming; biking through the county roads; listening to summer rains from the garage; after church Catfish King with family and Taco Bell with my best friend and her family; my quaint but charming small town that was special because it was mine; local festivals and parades; my portable CD player and Hilary Duff and Selena Gomez CDs; SpongeBob SquarePants reruns after school; the Avatar the Last Airbender finale and the buzz of excitement when it came out and my cousin and I parked it in front of the TV four nights straight to watch; mine and my cousin’s obsession for Michael Phelps when he was in the Beijing Olympics; local sporting events…
Just all those small perfect events and moments that I miss dearly, now that I see what I’ve lost in adulthood. If I could tell myself to slow down and appreciate all these things and people when I had them, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d build a time machine and revisit every small moment, taking it all in as I experienced them all over again with the clarity of a troubled and lonely adult. I wouldn’t dare burden my younger self with what was to come; how could I taint something so pure and new? Why ruin the innocence with the inevitable? Because if I did that, if I told my past self that these pure things didn’t last forever, then I would surely set in motion the destruction of all the good and simple things that I want so desperately to return to. I just want to make sure that I do tell her that these little joys will be the things she always remembers as she grows and changes, and that she shouldn’t change a thing at all because the memories will be unforgettable. They will define her and remain in her heart forever.
I don’t know why our life’s journey has to become riddled with turmoil and loneliness, but things and people always change. There’s no way around it, even though we hold these versions of people in our minds that they just aren’t anymore, including ourselves. I don’t know where that singing and dancing girl went, the one who made all these sweet memories and was drunk on life and ignorance. I just catch glimpses of her now, and sometimes I’m lucky enough for her to emerge in some unexpected way and remind me that she’s still there. That I’m still me deep down.
I’ve known this about myself for a while now, but I love everything and everyone in my life so much, sometimes to my detriment. I just go all in emotionally with the inspiring content I consume, and I romanticize the people in my life for the good times I’ve shared with them. My inner child doesn’t want these things or people to change, yet I know I have to let them grow and evolve for the sake of themselves and others. Even myself. I know I’m also a far cry from who I was, and that it’s just a fact of life.
I’ll always be drawn to the people and things that wrench and lift my heart in equal measure, and that’s how it will always be. I just hope that I’m not the only one who remembers the beauty of the past, their peak age of innocence, the place they can return to in the quiet and lonely hours of adulthood. I hope I never lose touch with that moment in time, where I can look back with fondness for the things I had and who I was.
But as I get older, more and more things are becoming lost to me, and I fear that this time of my life will eventually fade altogether.