There are times when I feel myself anticipating the past. I wonder if this happens to others? Anyone that knows me or has read my blogs knows I like the past and reminiscing. My walls are covered with old photographs. Relics of the past are scattered about my home, each with its' own tale to tell. Some of those things are in plain sight while others hide in closets, drawers or hidden nooks. But they are all here, all around me, waiting. I see them, I am reminded, and there are times I wait for them to arrive again, that is when I anticipate the past. I find myself longing for what can never be, but what was.
I wonder if it is because they are like a favorite blanket. They wrap themselves around you, giving you security and warmth. You hesitate to replace that blanket, that old companion, with something new. The new is without flaw, no stains, tears or signs of age but lack the comfort of familiarity. That is what resides in those photographs and relics, the familiar, the safety and security of time. I long for those times and anticipation sets in, a restless feeling. I am tempted to act, make bold moves, force a change. But one cannot recreate time, time long since gone cannot be recovered. That time has been captured, captured in memory.
When you are young you can't wait for tomorrow. Every day is filled with anticipation of what is to come. Tomorrow is my birthday, next week the dance and in a year I can get a drivers license! Always something to look forward to, to anticipate. A week seems like a generation. So much to see and do , so much to learn about. These are the days we will remember forever, the days of our youth. The majority of us will move forward, ever forward, until one day we find ourselves looking back in wonder. Where has the time gone? We all ask ourselves that question and none of us have an answer. Time is there, or was, and still may be, if only we could recapture the moments. For it is then when we understand that time is made up in moments, not hours, days, weeks or even years. It is then I anticipate the past, waiting for its' return.
I wonder if it is because they are like a favorite blanket. They wrap themselves around you, giving you security and warmth. You hesitate to replace that blanket, that old companion, with something new. The new is without flaw, no stains, tears or signs of age but lack the comfort of familiarity. That is what resides in those photographs and relics, the familiar, the safety and security of time. I long for those times and anticipation sets in, a restless feeling. I am tempted to act, make bold moves, force a change. But one cannot recreate time, time long since gone cannot be recovered. That time has been captured, captured in memory.
When you are young you can't wait for tomorrow. Every day is filled with anticipation of what is to come. Tomorrow is my birthday, next week the dance and in a year I can get a drivers license! Always something to look forward to, to anticipate. A week seems like a generation. So much to see and do , so much to learn about. These are the days we will remember forever, the days of our youth. The majority of us will move forward, ever forward, until one day we find ourselves looking back in wonder. Where has the time gone? We all ask ourselves that question and none of us have an answer. Time is there, or was, and still may be, if only we could recapture the moments. For it is then when we understand that time is made up in moments, not hours, days, weeks or even years. It is then I anticipate the past, waiting for its' return.
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