The best thing about the past, is that is where it stays.
Oh there are always the good bits: the nostalgic memories that come with mum’s scones with jam and cream, endless camping trips, Saturday mornings on the couch with my little brother wrapped in our donnas and watching cartoons, days spent at the creek catching tadpoles and making rope swings. Those were good days.
But the thing I love best is the now, and the hopes for the future.
Those nostalgic memories are being formed in the minds and hearts of my little people every single day.
The neurons in their brains are growing, sending out their little branches, and wrapping these little branches around their experiences, their emotions, the place they belong in the world.* I get to be part of making sure their memories are full of nostalgia too – the remembering of these happy days that we are living, right now.
It’s my baking they’ll be transported to when they smell something similar.
It’s our holidays they’ll remember, and sneaking cuddles on daddy’s side of the bed, and the dewy wet smell of grass when they played outside when the sun came up.
The memories that make a childhood a childhood.
I have them still, too. Patchouli always reminds me of my dad’s hugs, bonfire smoke will evoke campfire memories and roasting marshmallows, and the sound of the strong easterlies through the gumtrees will take me back to summer nights in the house I grew up in.
But I love that I am making memories today.
Today we walked to school and chatted about swimming practices, and wobbly teeth.
Today we had home made icey poles for afternoon tea, and the chocolate went all over their faces.
Today Grandpop came for dinner and the boardgames were piled in front of him. The kiddos eagerly demanded his undivided attention, which he gave just as eagerly.
We made our own hamburgers with patties we’d shaped with our hands and loaded with our favourite salads on a bun.
I kissed soft cheeks over and over, each one and said countless I love you’s and good-nights.
These days are better than the good old days. These bright, shiny new ones that we twirl in.
* Clearly, I am no neuroscientist.