a story about nostalgia

I’m emotional over a thunderstorm.

No seriously, I’m sitting in my dorm, it’s 6:30PM on a Friday night, and when I heard the thunder growl it’s like this wave of nostalgia crashed over me.

At home, when a thunderstorm rolled in, my dad could always be found in our living room, standing by the big window that looked out to the cul-de-sac. I would creep down the stairs from my bedroom, and plop myself on the landing.

There is a tiny window that looks out to the same view. I looked to my left, and there is my dad. We both just sit there, listening to the sounds of the thunder and watching the rain fall.

I don’t really remember being scared of thunder as a kid, but maybe I was, who knows.

But I think if I ever was, my dad played a role in dismissing that fear.

Looking over at him, seeing how calm he was, I just knew everything would be okay.

If the thunderstorm could hurt me, my dad would protect me.

But you could replace thunderstorm with any other fear, and the sentence would still apply.

So 15 minutes ago, when that thunder struck, I smiled.

The image of my dad, standing by the window came into my mind. And then I got a little teary-eyed.

Because all I wanted was to walk down the stairs, plop on the landing, and watch my dad watch the rain.

So then I thought about texting him, maybe even giving him a FaceTime call.

But instead, I opened my computer and started writing this.

This is my way of saying Dad, I miss you.

But this isn’t supposed to be sad, because if you remember, I said I smiled when I heard the thunder. It reminded me of a good memory.

It reminded me that thunderstorms are typically perceived as scary.

But to me, they’re comforting.

Nostalgia has a funny way of creeping up on you in random moments. When it happens to me, I soak it all in. Let it happen.

But that shouldn’t be surprising, as I am writing a blog post just because I heard a little thunder.

I am a very nostalgic person, can you tell?

I used to hate it, especially last semester, when all I did was scroll through my snapchat memories, constantly missing my friends from home. My life at home.

But then I realized how much time I wasted thinking about the time I would never get back. I will never be a senior again, where I had three hours of school and no homework, running around town with my friends all day.

But one day, I am going to reminisce on the time I was a college freshman, running around my little college town with this new independence.

So I realized I had to swipe out of last year’s snapchat memories, and focus on the new ones I would be saving.

Second semester was a breath of fresh air. Granted, I had finally settled in and found my community here.

But I also had a different attitude.

Every day is a memory you’re going to look back on, so what do you want to remember?

Nostalgia should make us happy. Grateful for the things we got to experience, and the people we experienced them with.

The Dr. Seuess quote comes to mind, “sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.”

I love that quote. Because it is true, a lot of times we don’t know we’re living the best chapters of our lives until we have to turn the page.

But the key word in his quote is “sometimes.” Because then I think about the times I knew the value of the moment I was living.

Actually just recently, I decided to stay in on a Saturday night. At around 11pm, I heard fireworks. My window didn’t face where the fireworks were coming from, so I figured why not take the trash out and get a better view. Two birds one stone.

My face lit up the moment I saw the fireworks. Not to keep making this all about my dad, but he loves fireworks. I couldn’t wait to pull out my phone and record a video for him.

See how the nostalgia just kicked in there?

But first, I called one of my best friends who was also staying in. I FaceTimed her, and within 30 seconds she was standing beside me watching them.

We saw some other students racing towards the source, attempting to get a better view, so we thought, why not?

We started running alongside them. When we finally got to the drill field where the fireworks were being set off, I had the biggest smile on my face. There were so many people watching. Couples sitting closely, wrapped in a blanket, hugging. There were groups of friends clapping when a really cool firework exploded. I turned to my friend and we just smiled.

That’s the kind of moment you know you’re going to be nostalgic about.

But it’s also the kind of moment that lets you know, you are home.

So now, I’m sitting on top of my desk, my back against my twin XL dorm bed, with a pillow under my feet for comfort. Because it landed me the best view of the thunderstorm. Which is no longer a thunderstorm by the way, the sky is clear and I bet it is about to paint the most beautiful post-storm sunset I’ve ever seen.

Sitting here made me feel like I was at home again, looking at the thunderstorm on the landing of the stairs, with my Dad standing in the living room.

And even though I would do anything to teleport back home and actually be with my Dad, I have found a new home.

My home in Blacksburg.

Which is why I’m smiling. Because six months ago I wouldn’t have called this place home, and now I am.

Which means, I’m growing up.

I get to meet new people, and they’ll be new characters in my journal entries. I get to experience new places, and one day call them home. I get to try things, and make mistakes. I get to reminisce on old memories, and miss the people that truly make a place home.

And that’s the beauty of smiling at a thunderstorm.

xoxo, megs