Bittersweet Chorus

Nostalgia has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it — on vacation, under fireworks, or in the chorus of a song. When that bittersweet memory hits, you have a choice: will you look back with longing for what’s gone, or with gratitude for the moments that made you?

Vacations let you make new memories and laugh over the old — nostalgia at its best. And sometimes, they’re just an excuse to forget everything else for a while and sink into those bittersweet feelings.

“Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.”
Kevin Arnold (The Wonder Years)

What-If on Repeat

Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s the nostalgia or just the chance to forget everything else that makes coming home from vacation feel so uneasy. On the way back, my legs were restless, my mind wandered, and my mood shifted.

My dad always knows me, even after I’ve been away for a few days. But every time I leave, I can’t help but worry — what if this time he forgets who I am? I want to rush to see him because I’ve missed him so much, but the anxiety of that possibility sits heavy: what would I do if I walked in and he didn’t recognize me?

Not to worry on Memory Lane

All of that anxiety wasn’t worth my time, because the moment I walked through the door, his eyes lit up — just like always. He knew I’d been gone longer than usual and asked, “Where have you been?” I told him all about the beach and the fireworks. He watched the videos and scrolled through the pictures on my phone, then proudly showed them to anyone else who would stop and look.

Then he took his own little trip down memory lane. He started telling me stories about the places we’d driven through on our way to the beach — like Lucedale, Mississippi, where my grandparents were married. He told a story about a train, a naughty little boy, and Mobile, Alabama, with quite the mischievous grin.

A Little Nostalgia for the road

He was busy, and he was happy. He said, “Bring your rake when you come back!”

The nurse chuckled, surprised he was planning to put his visitor to work, but I knew exactly what was coming next.

“Ahh, she’ll be fine. She can handle it. It’s good for her.”

And he’s right.

I’ll be fine.

I can handle it.

It’s good for me.