Nostalgia

As a kid, I liked to go the park near my house and explore a small patch of trees with a stream running through it  that could scarcely be called a forest, but to my young, open mind it was something more. Infinite possibilities arose and it seemed like I was in the heart of a dense wood instead of in a small grove behind an electrical sub station. Being in this place makes me remember what it was like to be so innocent, without the jading knowledge that the beauty in the world before you is finite. The sound of the stream tumbling its course down to the creek, the hum of the power being distributed to hundreds of households, and the rustling of the wind the bamboo, all of these sounds bring back a deep longing in me to see the beauty in the world once more, to revert to a child-like state of imagination. Nostalgia to me is longing for simpler times, times when not knowing what lay ahead was okay. I do miss the comfort of the weight of the world every day. My nostalgia is all I have of those times. I often return to that grove that held my attention so well as a child, trying to find my imagination that i lost so long ago.