nostalgia,

Nostalgia is a bizarre feeling.

Sometimes it will leave you feeling happy, sometimes sad. Other times you will feel numb and other times this odd sense of longing without being aware of what you're longing for.

Nostalgia is a demon but a demon that makes us human. If not for the memory we have, what are we? We are but remnants of our pasts. Some will tell you the past is gone, it doesn't matter. But it does.

What you lived through yesterday makes you who you are today. And nostalgia is not a bad feeling, it's just,

something I can't quite grasp because each time it manifests itself in such a different way that I cannot quite put my fingers on it. Yet. It puts me in a trance, where it seems as though I'm living through a reel of my life lived yesterday, and I feel a little closer to being human.

That night's memory with a thin cigarette, a gentle candle burning with the smell of passion and the slow rock that played, reels through my mind from time to time. It was dark and warm. Was it a summer's night? Going by the timeline in my head it says it was around April or May so maybe. I remember I was alone, waiting for your text. Something in me was raging then but I wasn't sure why I felt the way I did.

The smoke calmed me down but the music riled me up. It was a perfect juxtaposition and my senses were heightened. I can't remember if you returned my text then, but I remember the wait. The anticipation. The imagination of when you could be there with me, smoking a cigarette and talking about all life's woes.

But it never did happen and all I have now is this darkened, beautiful memory that I cherish and picture sometimes. The feelings have faded but the memories remain in my mind - distorted and erotic.

How can someone not taste the beauty of rain? The cold, chilling breeze before, the heralding black clouds, and the smell of soil burnt. It comes together all too magically.

I love rain. It's as if rain and nostalgia were made for each other. A cup of steaming tea, a book that reads your favourite old-timer monologue, and a burning cigarette. What else do I need?

It rained that day as I dragged my grandma's patio chair to the yard and sat under that old tree as the rain poured down. She got mad because I might catch a cold, but who was I to listen? I watched her as she fiddled around with those firewood and created a magnificent fire. The stove burnt like the fires in hell only so much more rousing.

I don't remember her voice and I'm forgetting her face too. It all seems like blurred watercolor with the paint-stained sepia and I have only the memory.

Nostalgia is still a demon for sometimes, it breaks my heart. But it's a demon that protects my memories so I don't let slip what's important to me.

Oh M.

There are fleeting moments each day when I abruptly remember you. All those years of friendship and countless memories. I think back to the days of winter night BBQ and blackout pass-times. I think back to our ridiculous games and playdates. I miss getting excited over GTA and I miss the innocent days. They're gone. There's no salvaging that. You fight your own demons, I fight mine. We've grown into people we never imagined we would have. Are you proud of it?

I think back to simpler days and it puts a smile on my face, and for now, I think that's enough.