There are little things everywhere that spark memories. Bring back feelings of nostalgia. The mountain I see out my office window everyday, about 60 miles away, reminds me of home. My real, growing-up home.
Seeing a ticket stub from a nearly forgotten event, reminds me of friends from that time. Of good times. Great conversations. Laughter. Love.
Hearing certain songs brings back memories, too. An entire segment of my life that I can remember more clearly than I remember the last month.
One such song just sparked a few. I remember sitting in my sister's house, listening to her roommate's cd, while I worked on her computer, since mine was in my apartment with my crazy roommate.
It was my first year of grad school. Luckily during the roommate saga, my sister was still in school, and lived a few minutes away. Her roommates were kind enough to let me crash while I figured out my living situation.
At the time, I was head over heels for my best friend. He was not, then. Yet, again. I met many of my now closest friends in grad school. But he knew me best. He understood me like none of the others did at the time.
I miss those days, sometimes. Miss his friendship. Not enough to want to go back. But definitely enough so that when I look through the shoebox of memories from then , I smile. Lies or not.