When the weather hits a certain temperature, when you walk outside and can't distinguish where your skin ends and where the air begins, when it feels so perfectly right outside, there is a pain that is ever so slight that settles in. The sensation is similar to what you feel when you have a fever, when the lightest touch on your skin hurts so good. And when the air is perfectly still, it feels that everyone is holding their breath at once, the earth itself holding its breath. And if you held your breath so you don't drown out the sound that you're waiting for, you'll be able to hear the whispers that everyone else is waiting to hear, if you would only tilt your head and lean your ear up a little closer.
Above all, at these times, a feeling of nostalgia overwhelms me. Where does it come from? What am I nostalgic for? The only explanation that comes to mind is that a part of me is nostalgic as a forethought, that at that perfect moment, a part of me is already missing the passing of that perfect moment, already nostalgic about a time in which I lived in that perfect moment. It is not a sad nostalgia, more of the romantic kind. At one and the same moment, I seem to be living and looking back at myself living. The making of memories, I guess.
1 comment:
Ooh, good to hear from you! It's gone now, that feeling, but spring is coming and there are more of those days to come. Tomorrow it's supposed to snow! Different, but nice. Keep an eye out for some pictures of my nieces (remembering your nephew's picture- cute!). Do you have a blog?
Post a Comment