I have a confession to make: I am prone to nostalgia—very prone to nostalgia! But what does it mean to be “very” prone to nostalgia? Perhaps an example will demonstrate:

I was at summer camp, going into 7th grade. And toward the end of the week, there was a dance. Now, I don’t like dancing and I’ve always been a very shy person, so I spent much of the time standing against the wall and watching the other kids dance. But toward the end, I mustered the courage to walk over to the girl I’d had the biggest crush on all week long and asked her to dance. And she said yes! It was glorious, and marked the greatest achievement of my young life up to that point.

And to this day, that’s all I remember about it. I don’t remember what song was playing. I don’t remember what we talked about. I don’t remember what she wore, or even what she looked like!

What I do remember is standing in that same room the following day. It was empty, and I was alone. And I remembered everything, reliving those wonderful few minutes once again, in perfect detail. I can’t recall the memories now, but I recall the reminiscing, and the incredible feeling of contentedness that it brought. I remember the nostalgia.

That’s what it means to be “very” prone to nostalgia! Admittedly, this is an extreme example; most of my memories are of the actual events, not of remembering them. But I think I’ve proven my point.

I don’t get nostalgic on purpose, I don’t seek it out. It’s not a crutch I use to escape an unpleasant reality. But my mind is always running, and when I’m not thinking about the present or the future, I’m thinking about the past. It’s that simple.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I don’t experience emotions much. But when I do experience powerful emotions, they get imprinted indelibly in my memory and stored away. In this way, I’ve built up a great warehouse of feelings through the years, from which I might draw at any time.

But I don’t draw on these memories through any sort of intentional process. Rather, there is a package clerk running around in there, grabbing random boxes off the shelves and delivering them to me, whether I sign off on them or not. Just as life itself serves up both good times and bad times, so even my nostalgia runs me through the ups and downs, on repeat.

And so, I’ve had a thousand first kisses. I’ve proposed a thousand times to ReNae. I’ve held my first child for the first time, a thousand times. I’ve endured a thousand break-ups. I’ve been fired thousands of times. And one thousand times, I have looked upon the caskets of loved ones that are sorely missed.

I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes. It is wonderful, and it is awful. And I wouldn’t give it up for anything!

So, what about you? Are you prone to nostalgia?