I saw a photo on Facebook the other day. It was one that caught me off-guard and rendered me surprisingly emotional:
It’s a picture of my old primary school during a summer sports day sometime in the early to mid 1980’s. I know that girl who’s about to win the race, she was in my class (and was always good at athletics). I know that field and I know those houses in the background. Hell, I can even know those dry, muddy tracks in the grass and remember driving my toy cars through them.
So on seeing this photo, the overriding fuzz in my head was one of fluffy nostalgia. It imparted such a feeling of sentimentality that thoughts invariably drifted toward my own children and their current time in primary school.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life at the moment: I have an amazing wife, two wonderful daughters, I live in a cool house in very cool city. I even have a pretty good job. But those primary school sports days? All carefree and sunny? They were amazing. As was the childhood life I led at the time (and yes, I’m acutely aware how lucky I am to say that).
So while I will not harp-on to my little girls that, “school days are the best of your life“, I certainly acknowledge that sentiment has a ring of truth about it. And with this in mind, I will certainly observe my daughters’ current adventures and experiences with the hope and understanding that what they are undertaking right now may just trigger something similar to my recent emotion at some point in their future. That feels good.
What I do find – thankfully – is that I don’t catch myself looking back on the past with melancholic nostalgia. That would be unhealthy. I appreciate I’m getting older, but I also appreciate there will come many more days for me to relish in the future. And with the recognition that at some point in the future I’ll look back on where I am now in life with the same warm and fuzzy feeling as came with the above photo, well, that gives me the confidence to continue on the journey we call life with my eyes comfortably on the road, and not in the rear view mirror
Thanks for reading.