Isn’t it exhilarating, being in a place you know fondly after a while. The familiarity hits you as soon as you approach, and the memories just bubble up from there. It’s not the same for everyone, but the feeling is similar. 

For me, it’s a specific set of beaches. Down on the southeast coast of a country. And only in the wintertime, when the air is cold and wind strong. It’s actually really unpleasant when you think about it, but holds many fond memories. Memories of a simpler time. Of a time where stories were started, the sparks of ideas flew and ignited. Some of my best unwritten work was started there, all those years ago. 

In a way, the memories hold a story, not of characters of the mind, but one of reality. Of years of adaptation to an everchanging script. The race of life, slightly slowed down. The afternoons that let time pass without consequence. Minutes blend into hours. In a way, they were an escape. But we know an escape cannot last forever. 

Funnily enough, I don’t think about it that much when I’m actually there. Sure, I appreciate the views and the feels, taking it in before returning to mundanity. But most of the emotions are felt afterwards. Days, months, or even years after. My heart burns for days like those again; a deep, yearning pain.  

Maybe I’m childish, clinging onto memories long gone. But they will always be there. As time wears down on the world. As the changing skies bring new days. As long as I live, I will yearn for those days long gone.