scribblechic

The convenience of social networking has created a web of nostalgia that stretches old memories into relationships. We become friends, anew. This curious affection born of the past and strewn so delicately amid the details of our days suggests that it is not another’s affirmation we seek, but pieces of ourselves.

This experience of gathering the old among the new has gifted me forgotten memories and misplaced friendships. In the time between passing notes in high school hallways and parenting school age children I wandered from the familiar territory of childhood friendships, loosing little landmarks of self. I have rediscovered these treasures in letters that travel over time.

Some friendships slipped naturally into the fabric of my days, others I visited, some remain relegated to the past. In each discovery I find little truths that resonate with a clarity that reverberates over the years.

Still there exists a beautiful distortion of self in this web of memories. I remember you a precursor to exaggerated flattery. Let’s remember one another as we were, allowing for adolescent awkwardness. When our paths cross I want to laugh at my own mistakes and celebrate the journey that has made me who I am. Like tiny scars from old lessons, I am comfortable with the past. The contrast of old dreams and growing pains makes the present more beautiful for the truth of the journey.

Tagged: Memories, Musings, Self