The Season of Nostalgia
We are entering a season of holidays, families, and traditions, and with that, we are also entering the season of nostalgia.
Each year, we long for the past. We long for summer months, hot as they were, as the air turns opaque in front of our faces. We long for the Thanksgivings that held a little more joy in our childlike perception. We long for the presence of the family members that used to never miss a Christmas Day. We long for the festivities of just last year, or the year before, or ten years before that, back when everything and everyone was a little brighter, a little warmer, a little more joyful, a little more perfect.
We relentlessly immerse ourselves in this nostalgic haze rather than fully engage with the present. We mourn lost traditions rather than create new ones because we cannot see beyond the loss to what weight a new tradition could hold in the future. Human nature has a tendency to dwell in the past, but this season of celebration intensifies such occurrences. As the skies take on that lovely, crisp hue and the trees begin to complement the blue with their adornments of golds and ambers, we fail to appreciate what surrounds us, because every tree and every sky is a reminder of a day passed.
This holiday season, I am longing for something, too. I am nostalgic for the falls of my past, where I danced with the falling leaves underneath the dogwood tree in my backyard, swirling and swirling until I fell with them on the ground. I miss the Thanksgivings where the whole family would travel down to the beach house, where everyone was happy and the food wasn’t tainted with bitterness and political altercations and where I didn’t taste the suffocating arguments over where I should attend college in my slice of pie, my water, my air. I want to return to when I didn’t feel helpless, where I felt in control of my – albeit smaller – body and mind. I miss my grandparents. They used to never miss a Christmas, filling the house with their laughter and silly songs and rhymes and the floating Christmas carols that seemed to follow them everywhere. I miss their perfect, perfect hugs that could stop the world’s frenzy. They can’t make the trip anymore, because as I’ve grown older, so have they. My heart breaks a little each Christmas I spend 12 hours away from them, and my nostalgia rushes in to fill the rift.
My attempt at a solution to all this confusing mess of emotion is this: rather than fully abandon those attractive daydreams, bring your memories to the present this holiday season. Take what was lost last year and revive it. Channel that spirit and that joy, the childlike whimsy. Make an effort to take on the qualities of those loved ones, their goodness, their love, their compassion. Restart lost traditions, or revamp them, or begin your own. Place yourself outside of your thoughts and bring your nostalgia with you, making your memories one more thing you share this year.