Feeling Nostalgic

Every now and then there comes a time for contemplative reflection.  It seams there are much simpler times in everyones past that have a certain apeal and just tug at your heart in a special way.  Maybe it is a special scent, a comment or phrase, or something visual that trips our mind to those distant memories. Perhaps the path that leads you back is well known to you, or maybe those memories just come pouring back without any idea of what tripped the trigger.  It really doesn't matter -- it's not the point you left, but the point you reach that is the majic.

For me, there is a simple place that was always special to me.  My upbringing was on the banks of a river in a smallish town on the plains of the Dakotas.  The days of my youth were spent exploring the woods and river banks on the outskirts of town.  I knew every inch of this place -- from where to find clams in the creek to where the snapping turtles would haul themselves onto the logs to bask in the sun. I could fish the river like a pro, and even watch the ducklings hatching in their nests.  Yes, this simple place holds special meaning and fond memories for me.

In my later high school days, I strolled these woods with camera in hand -- an old Yashica FX-3.  Bulk black and white film -- developed by hand in the school darkroom -- captured images of this world of mine. 

Much older now, with a family and a home of my own and all the stress and chaos that comes in the middle of one's journey through life, I find a simple joy as I trip through those youthful memories each time I view one of  those special images.  One such image graces one of the walls of my home.  It's a simple image, really, now browned with time; an image of a Cedar Waxwing perched in a leafless chokecherry tree in the dead of the Dakota winter.

When I see this image, I remember that walk through the snowy white woods like it was only yesterday.  A much simpler time in my life where stress meant dreading a high school test or worrying over who to ask to the dance.  Yes, that was a wonderful and simple time when the world was enormous and full of experiences not yet experienced and scenes not yet seen.  I often wonder what it would be like, to turn back the clock to those innocent days and wash away the scars of time and mileage.  Would the road lead to different places than those I've been?