Pumpkin Spice take me away

I enjoy seasonal flavors, they feel special and their flavor reminds me of the good times from each season. In the Spring the vegetables taste fresh, in the Summer I like to grill everything under the sun, Fall I love fresh apples, warm baked goods and pumpkin spice though I stick to pumpkin pie and pumpkin coffee. In the Winter there are even more baked goods, heavier meals and eggnog.

The flavor of pumpkin and pumpkin spice are wonderful but the flavor truly shines when used as a key, a key to unlock old memories from the Fall. The scent and taste of something takes me back to all the times I have had that smell or taste. Like photographs hung along a string,  every memory of fall is linked together by Autumn tastes, sights and wonderful scents.

Each sip of my morning pumpkin coffee is like a small burst of nostalgia. Red and orange Autumn leaves poof into the room and float gently through the air. Candles all with their own smells of pumpkin, apple cider or deep woods, each one takes me to a place if only for a moment. The image in my eyes gets a little nicer and the world becomes a little warmer.

My mind is a flurry with stories, images of ideal Autumns hand picked from my best memories and my hopes for the future. I dream of warm, country homes surrounded by Autumn trees. Each home with a little trail of smoke rising from the tops. The cold autumn wind blows through, crisp and refreshing. The smells of woodsmoke, baking pies and crushed leaves fill the air. This is the place I like to go.

The wish for this ideal is what drives me. I use the images of Autumn to help me through the hard times and look to a better future ahead. No matter how overheated or beaten down I get, Autumn always comes.
Autumn is slow and peaceful, it is a time to reflect and enjoy nature. It suits my personality and each year it is when I am at my happiest.
I sit with blurry vision as the sleep fades from my eyes and I drink my pumpkin coffee. My pumpkin spice coffee helps me face the day, it warms me up and takes me away.

Nostalgia is the sweetest drug

The moment struck me like a sword through the chest. The moment when I realized that the past was gone and no amount of effort would bring it back. Nostalgia was like opium, It takes your mind away from your troubles and sends you back to a simple and happy time. People get addicted to it and even rely on it for their source of happiness. The glorious day that Joe scored the winning touch down will always be a fond memory for him, but he also relied on it for validation and comfort. Even when he didn't realize he was doing it. He sucked the life out of his memory like a vampire drains its victims of blood. He played football on the weekend to relieve old glory and told himself it was just for fun.
I never played football but I have my own memories, memories that glow and sparkle in an otherwise dark life of pain and isolation. I try to relieve my old days, I try to set up time with friends and hope that it will feel as good as it used to, but it never does. Memories have their use and Nostalgia can be used in moderation, like alcohol. I use my nostalgia to get a little drunk off the past happiness and it keeps me going through the bad times. I try not to dwell on the past so much that it effects the future. Every day is a new chance to make those good memories. Every day is a rich source of potential nostalgia. Joe won't ever score the winning touch down again, because he is a banker not a pro-football player, but he can teach his son how to throw a ball and that memory will be just as fine. That will be a memory he can add to his "feel good" vault of memories that we call nostalgia. Not only will he have that happy memory, but his son will also. The best happy memories are the ones you share with others, the ones that you can reminisce about when times are tough or someone needs encouragement.

Memory is a tricky thing and often the past seems better than it truly was. Joe might want to relieve his glory days  on his high school football game, but he wouldn't want to relieve that morning when his parents had a huge fight or the day before when he was stuck in math class and couldn't stay awake. You remove the bones, fillet the meat and only consume the sweetest parts of the memory.
Objects have as much power as people assign to them. If your grandfather fought in a war and gave you his prized knife that he took into battle, then you should be honored. You were given a gift of history as well as personal memory. Your grandfather remembers the war and it changed who we was as a person, that knife was proof of his deeds and the events that happened. Now you hold that knife. The knife has more stories behind it than you might have of your own. Having a physicial representation of your memory makes that memory stronger. If Joe got to keep his foot ball from the winning touch down, then he might have it on his shelf, maybe even make a display for it, depending on how shameless he wishes to be with his love for that memory. I find it hard to throw anything away, I keep anything that was given to me by a loved one, even if it was just a scrap of paper that said "Jerkface" on it. Someone that I loved thought of me and wanted to make me laugh by humorously insulting me. Someone thought of me. People don't realize always realize what their actions mean, for better or worse. a silly note might be someone's prized possession, all because of the power we assign to the object.

So when an object holds your fondest memories, when it has experienced some of your best times and knows your best stories, when an object breaks, it is only then that you realize how much power you place in your things, your trophies from the past and how much you rely on nostalgia to get by in life. Old memories can seem like phantoms in your mind, you wonder if they really did happen how you remember them. Did Joe truly score the winning touch down? It was so long ago and ever since he moved he lost touch with anyone who might have also remembered that day. but he has the football, the football is real so the memory must also be real.
When the object that held your stories is destroyed, what happens to your stories? They still exsist inside you, but you do lose a piece of the story, a small piece that makes it just a little harder to remember. On the one hand you don't want to have a room full of trophies from the past, missing out on the present because you are too obessesed with the past. On the other hand your stories make you who you are and remembering good times can keep you going when you feel like giving up. The trick is balance. Balance in all things. I try not to hold objects in higher regards than people, but when a person breaks an object with so many stories a little piece of you breaks with it.

Magic in the rain

The rain beats down behind me, my body is soothed by the sweet sound of rain pattering on the leaves outside. Many don’t understand the feeling, they don’t see the magic in the rain. But I’ve lived long enough to know there is something special there, that rain is indeed magic.

            Any weather can change the scenery so dramatically and with every weather type it can trigger a new emotion. When it rains I feel a mix of happiness and sadness, a sort of nostalgia. If you have fond memories from when it rains, then those memories are all linked together by the rain. The rain brings them out of you feeling almost as fresh and new as the first time. Like unpacking Christmas decorations. You have memories so deeply connected to those simple objects you can remember every good and bad moment when you look at them.

            The world is a little more peaceful when it rains, and you notice this more when you go out into the rain. No people and almost no cars on the road, just the rain, you and your thoughts. The skies take on a light gray color, causing any and all surrounded lights to shine even more brilliantly.  A single lamppost might go unnoticed normally, but when it rains the light from that lamp shines so beautifully. The contrast of the bright light as it peers out into the darkness and fog. This might be why I love lighthouses so much, especially on a rainy day. There is something comforting about a bright light or beacon shining out from the darkness, guiding everyone to shore. The darkness of night and the gray skies of a rainstorm can’t shut off the light.

            I think of all of this and sigh happily. I am sure there is a scientific reason to explain away why I feel how I feel about the rain, but I do not care. For me, rain is magic and as long as I live I will continue to believe so.

            The rain is slowly dying away and with it, so goes my inspiration. I hope you enjoyed my rambling fellow traveler and I hope you find your magic in the rain.

You, me and the rain

            Its been raining for hours. Day turned to night and the rain continued. I think of you as I sit on my porch listening to the rain. Soft music echoes from inside the house, the patter of rain sounds outside and on the roof. I watch as a seemingly endless supply of rain pelts the trees, sidewalk and street.

            The world changes when it rains. The sound of rain is almost hypnotic, sending you back into your deepest memories. My body relaxes as I watch and listen. A cool breeze drifts past me. I sip from my glass and I think back.

            Rainy days always make me a little sentimental and nostalgic, every chill in the air mixed with the warmth coming from my house makes me think of you. Cuddling on the couch as we watched the rain. I get lonely and think of those days. I miss you, eternally. On warm days its easier, the sun makes me too warm and I can distract myself from my feelings. But on cool nights and especially when it rains, I feel so relaxed and happy and think, the only way this could be better is if you were here with me.

            So I sit and sip my drink, Scotch on the rocks. It lets me sleep and when I sleep I dream of your face and your gentle touch. With the rain, the wind and my thoughts of you, if I could make this night go on forever I would. A peaceful evening and a night of pleasant dreams, the light of morning comes too soon, but for now it’s just You, Me and the rain.