Nostalgia and Its Illusions

Isn’t it funny how we choose what to remember? The thoughts we have now about our past are only sweet representations of what we once felt.

I have a memory of my sister’s wedding—one of utter pride in my sister, one of candy-colored perfection where flowers smelled particularly strong, one of dancing with my sister with the whole room smiling at us. While celebrations such as weddings are important and definitely worth remembering, I doubt that that night was quite as memorable as I recall it. I remember it as sweeter than it really was. I filed it in the “Important Night” file in my head, right next to the “Things I Wish Would Happen” file, which is, of course, (as we all know) cattycorner to the “Somebody Told Me a Great Story” file. The files seem to jumble sometimes.

I remember getting my heart broken. I remember it as a very bad time of my life, but I don’t feel very hurt by it still; I don‘t feel the heartbreak. It still somehow seems sweeter than when I was actually in it. We file times such as these in the “That Was Difficult” file, which is, of course, next to the “You Are Beautiful!” file. That file always is missing what I want to hear when I need to hear it.

Nostalgia—how you magnify the good and place a rose-colored lens in front of the bad. Not all of my thoughts of the past are accurate, but I am comfortable with this knowledge. I file it in the “Act Oblivious” file next to the “For My Supposed Good” file, cattycorner to “Misplaced Ideas that I Hope to Learn at Least Something From.” It is not important knowledge, but something to which I always come back.