Letters from Home

On Nostalgia: Wanting What We Already Had

I feel like I’ve never had a home, you know? I feel related to the country, to this country, and yet I don’t know exactly where I fit in… There’s always this kind of nostalgia for a place, a place where you can reckon with yourself. — Sam Shepard


Graveyard in Boston
When we leave this World behind, it moves on
Posts in Maine
All the simple mundane bits of life become beautiful
Lonely Farm Home in Canada
Places we craved to escape seem suddenly magnetized.
Factory in New Hampshire
Windows reflect back at us like empty faces filled with regret
Fenway 2011 Cubs v. Red Sox
In past views, illogical love morphs to quiet obsession.
Connecticut Memorial
And remembering becomes ritual passed on to naive hands.
Lake in Main
All our childhood plays out in front of us, like a record we want to repeat over and over. Could the notes ever sound sweet again?
Lobster Traps at Abbott's
Memories live in rooms wanting to be aired. If we share the stories with others, they are bound to fall like foreign language.
So we set our heart's recollections free in safer outlets. There they hide like horcrux.
No matter where we fly, we are never free of memory.


Nostalgia is a seductive liar. — George Bell

This post is part of my September BIG QUESTION series, asking “What Does America Want?”. Thanks for thinking, asking, answering, and reading.

All photos in this post are original, taken on iPhone 4 and altered with Hipstamatic.

4 thoughts on “On Nostalgia: Wanting What We Already Had

Comments are closed.