Some times, but only sometimes, I think people try to hide their nostalgia away. I love my nostalgia. It may be one of the greatest gifts that my family passed on to me. I cherish the great memories I do have, for my childhood was punctuated with many instances of sadness. I am in no way trying to tout that I had a rough childhood, but many things happened that could be deemed traumatizing.
My house and many of my belongings were destroyed by a flood when I was eight or nine. At this point I have tried to remove myself so far from those days in that I actually can not remember my exact age. What I do remember is living at my first grade teacher's house until the flood waters receded and she had wonderful cats. I remember having to share a futon mattress with my little sister. A mattress that rested on top of wooden pallets because our beds had been destroyed and my sister's room was a muddy disaster after the flood.
My best friend's older brother hung himself when I was seven. I can still vividly remember my mom getting the phone call from my friend's mother. Her hands instinctively shot to her mouth and she sat on her bed in silence. Then she hugged me, really tight, for a long time. I was seven. There was absolutely no way I could comprehend what was going on at that moment. Years have passed since then. Michael would've been nearly forty by now I think. I still don't comprehend what happened.
I am sure there are many other things that happened that could be deemed "bad", but saturated with all of those bad there is so much good. My first kiss. Winning Spring Fling Queen when I was in seventh grade. The first time I fell in love. Meeting friends who I would continue to be friends with to this day.
I historically have been a negative Nancy. No problems admitting it and believing that I couldn't accomplish anything. Living through times in my life that I thought would never end with an attitude that just perpetuated the endless pattern. I did this for a long time. Too long actually. I'd spent too much time worrying about what could happen that I wouldn't let things organically occur. I sabotaged myself. And, although kitschy, this did not change until I met my husband. The man who no longer let me perpetuate my negative mind frame, and instead, he pushed me to go. Pushed me to do.
Want to go to South America to finish your degree? Do it.
Want to go to Mexico City just to celebrate a cultural event for four days? Get out of here.
Want to go to the Philippines to follow your dreams and become a (somewhat) field trained Archaeologist? I'll see you when you get back. You make me proud.
I've spent almost 3 years married to a human who has propelled me forward in a giant world of back word. In those three years I have officially been gone for almost 6 months of them. Nearly.
And this summer, I'll be gone for another two of those months. I made the decision to revisit the Philippines and continue working on the ever-expanding South East Asian chronology. I am elated. But this decision made me think. It reminded me of how I married such a wonderful human who has never stopped, nor stood in my way, of my dreams. If anything he has slung-shot me forward.
And every day I thank my lucky stars for bringing him into my life.
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