Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Remembering Sundays

Ever have those moments where you kinda lose track of time and all of a sudden its two years ago and everything that existed in you then, does now?
Maybe that's just me.
Most people call it nostalgia. But isn't that supposed to be about remembering the 'good old days?'

It's the strangest feeling, being town half way between who you are, and who you were. Certainly in my case, there's not an exorbitant amount of change.
I would still have used the word 'exorbitant' as a sixteen year old, for example.
I've been double-booked this weekend (yes, there IS a point to this rather random tangent). A friends Disney-themed dress-up 20th birthday..... and a friend is visiting Adelaide for a week from Sydney (Happy days ^^)
With many, many variables to consider, the dress-up won. Mainly because I feel a sense of duty to be the winglady for a friend in her attempt to avoid murdering a mutual friend's boyfriend (complicated, I know, but it makes sense when full context is provided.... something which wont be happening here).
I think I may make a stop in le Town to say hi to the folks at the here-for-a-week,-havent-seen-you-in-over-a-year party. Partly because an ex of mine will be there.
... Two, actually, now that I think of it.

Still. The one that matters i've had no contact with for.... a year? and limited contact before then. Everyone's got their first love. He was mine. Didn't matter we werent together for that long, or that he screwed me over rather substantially. It took me a long time to come to grips with what he did and why. I dont hold it against him anymore, which is unusual, considering my usual title is Queen of the Grudge-Holders. i miss him sometimes, you know? Maybe it isnt even the person, but the feeling.

And when I think of that feeling, of the summer spent in the Bridge, the heat and yellow grass... I'm seventeen again, just finished school, with not a care in the world.

Seeing his face, I have no doubt, would return that feeling, even if he does have someone else hanging off his arm. Good thing? Bad thing? Who knows. Still, it'd be nice to see the face who introduced me to the family that adopted me when things were so rocky with my own.

No comments:

Post a Comment