“The Greek word for “return” is nostos.
Algos means “suffering.”
So nostalgia is the suffering caused by
an unappeased yearning to return.”
I may suffer from a few strange and debilitating maladies, but nostalgia is not one of them. Driving past a house I once owned, riding through a park where I once rangered, pushing an old wedding dress aside in my closet, I am impervious. There is no desire to revisit, no remorse or sentimentality. Instead I have my sights set on here and now. This is especially true when it comes to my children. I fucked up a shit ton, that is for sure. And if I could do a few things over again, damn straight. But I don’t suffer to return to those days. Now I do my best to listen to my kids when they have something to say. I listen for clues that would direct me in supporting them. Recognizing, acknowledging, and comforting. Mostly I listen for opportunities to take responsibility for my poor choices and less than benevolent moments.
There was a time I felt bitter about my mother’s indifferent defense, “I did the best I could”. I considered this a lousy response to the abuse, disparagement and abandonment I experienced. That was until I heard those words come flying out of my mouth. Then I had to make a call to my mother and tell her. I had to call and say how annoyed I was and how now, I understand. It is in these moments, when we recognize our own human being ness. This living can be difficult. No one does it without making some questionable moves.
Today, without nostalgia I am doing my best to be compassionate, forgiving and accepting. I have no desire to return to some past moment. The yearning is to create the atmosphere, circumstances or conversations that reveal the reason I think we are all here…
and that is
to simply be here,
for each other.