Memory sense and the draw of nostalgia
A love letter to new perspectives and the moon's enduring power
Hello friends,
I’m writing to you from the passenger seat as my dad drives us home from Daytona. Bill Withers streams from the speakers. Dad sings along to the “I knows” in Ain’t No Sunshine.
We made the three-hour journey across the state on I-4 to see the NASCAR race this weekend. At the track, before the race began, I talked with the people sitting around me. The couple next to me had never been to a NASCAR race before. They had never even seen one on TV. But they were visiting friends in the area and decided to check it out. We spent the whole evening talking, them using questions and me explaining the action on the track and how many points specific drivers had in the standings.
Seeing the race through that couple’s eyes reminded me of my first race. It triggered a kind of memory sense, a reminder of the sheer joy of new experiences. Routines are beautiful things, organizing my day and winding me down for sleep. But they can also be complacency traps. Too much of a good thing, as they say. Fall too far into the comfort of a routine, and you leave no space for the unknown.
Road trips always make me a bit nostalgic. They remind me of when I was a kid, and I’d watch the street lamps pass at night with my forehead pressed against the cool window. Even then, I loved watching the moon follow me, weaving in and out of the lights.
The moon rose late last night, a pale yellow semi-circle attempting to heft itself into the sky. The journey from the track to my hotel was too short to witness the moon’s progress. I had faith, though. I knew she’d reach her goal. I got back to my hotel room around half-past midnight, sweaty and dusty but too exhausted to shower. I held off sleep just long enough to change into pajamas, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I fell into bed with sunburnt thighs and eyelids tattooed with the image of the moon.
I’m back home now. I planned to write a bit more, but I think I’ll end it here. Even after napping in the car, I’m still drained after this weekend’s activities. I’ll ask a couple of questions instead: What have you done that’s brought you joy recently? Where can you break up stale routines by seeing through a child’s eyes?
I’ll see you next time,
Yardena