Posted by azngeek at December 19th, 2007

That pang of nostalgia. Don’t you just hate it when you are minding your own business, and without warning the fiendish feeling that’d betray any man, woman or child reeks its ugly head, and you are without will or power to resist. You break down. You stop functioning as how you would in what I’d call the nominal sense. And out goes the rationale, the head fast head strong decision slinging, and even the wit and charm if one is lucky enough to possess any.

I got home late tonight. And my eyes, in caught sight of old photo albums on the underused green marble table that’s been around since what I’d call the beginning of time. The dull musky yellow of what would have been once white pieces of carboard where the untold words reside. They say a picture tells a thousand words. And as cliched as it is a cliche and even more cliched it is for me for calling that a cliche, it is so true. Flipping through the pages of the thick hard covered photo album labelled ‘1992′, the memories. They come tip-toeing through the weary eyes, sneaking through the iris, making the recon mission up the slippery unused slope to the cob-webbed infested part of the brain that’d be the reservoir of memories long past.

From the brick sized beige gameboy that was in almost every dinner picture in the stubby little hands of the kid that I’d not have recognized, to the cheeky smiles that I’d not be caught dead pulling off today, to the pictures of kindness on my father’s part that sometimes I seem to forget. Ah. Nostalgia.

And then I flip through another. 1992. 1993. 1994. 1995. 1996. And a huge gap of missing years. To the year 2000. I see the transformation. I see the physical transformation of a boy. To another boy. To another. With every year. The boy being far more cynical than the last.

Boys will be boys. However unkind a statement it maybe. Boys. Will. Be. Boys. The memories of the laughter, and the teasing, and the mind games of just kids. Boys will be boys. Ah. Nostalgia.

But you know what nostalgia. Let me not be unkind. As the more painful memories come to past, so do the better ones, of friends that I am still friends with today, of the life that I lead today from the mish mash of memories that I had of yesterday, and of the good fortune I have of somewhat turning out alright.

Ah nostalgia. Cheri. Maybe I do not hate you so much after all. The holiday season always gets you thinking.

Signing off,
Azngeek