Blast from the Past

Sometimes a song on the radio reminds you of a certain someone. Sometimes a simple drive down a road will lead to a stroll down memory lane. But sometimes the people from your past return themselves, reminding you of the memories left behind. By some odd coincidence, the past couple of months have turned out to be quite boomerangfull; I’ve been running into people from the past at a much greater frequency recently – as if the tectonic plates have shifted once again and the world just got smaller by another degree. For the most part, these people have been of no significance in my life, but they carried some memory or another – memories that I wish to leave buried six feet under. It’s hard enough dealing with people as it is, because even though they’re gone, they still manage to reappear… either in the lyrics of a song, in the butt of a joke, in a box full of mementos, or in the very roots of your subconscious. If only we could put a “do not disturb” sign outside the doors of our minds and hearts, how much simpler would it be keeping people curbed.

But a part of me almost wants to break the chains off the door that I’ve kept securely locked. I want to introduce my past to my present so I can share the tales of my journey. Though I fear that my past wouldn’t recognize me, having lost my virginity to Manhattan and other worldly escapades. A small town girl with big dreams – as the cliché goes – is no longer the standard caption under my profile picture. I’ve aged, as have my perceptions of reality. When you’re growing up, you earnestly try to fit yourself into a mold preconceived by society. But now that I’m two months shy of turning 24, I’ve realized that more often than not, most of us are square pegs in round holes. And that’s okay.

We keep a welcome doormat outside our homes for a reason, I suppose. Whether it’s an uninvited guest or a friendly neighbor, our doors are always open. Come past or future, I’ll be there to greet you.