Drowning in Nostalgia

I’m curled up in a sizable sofa, lost underneath layers of blankets and comforters. I could hear buzzes of conversations in the background, as well as the faint sound emitting from a laptop’s speaker. My eyelids start to flutter as fatigue rears its head and the warmth of the sofa invites me to let go of the realm of reality and embrace the domain of dreams.

As I begin to drift into the land of slumber, a wave of nostalgia starts to take over me. Memories of younger Maris curled up in 5/54-Odell-Street and IB64-Betag sofas, wrapped in comfortable blankets, falling asleep in front of ongoing TV shows begin to make their way into my mind. I start to feel the same contrast of the coolness in my cheeks and the warmth on my toes. Then the same warm fuzzy feelings. Then the same comfort, like that which a mug of hot chocolate brings on a cold rainy day. Memories, memories, brought back again by my present realities.

Yep. I’m drowning in nostalgia. Been swimming in it actually, and now I’m drowning in it.

I’ve been been swimming in this sea for the most part of the month of August. Been having nostalgia attacks everywhere I turn. For the most part of the month, every sight, every location, and every experience would remind me of something that I had also seen, been to, and experienced somewhere and sometime in the past.

The cafeteria and hallway of Burhan reminded me of the Thoughts Beyond Culture 2, of that time that me and a whole bunch of my friends participated in that cultural and academic exchange that proved that friendship transcended distance, language, and culture, of that event that sort of started this all.

The escalators and walkways at Mines, Alamanda, and KLCC gave me a remembrance of my last months in the Philippines, of those moments that I’ve shared with a couple of close friends there, and those  hours that I spent bonding with them in the SM Ayala, Glorietta, and Greenbelt area.

And most recently, the cool air at the Cameron Highlands gave me a recollection of my last days home, of my last moments with my family in La Trinidad, Benguet, and of that final outing with my beloved friends and batchmates, of the laugh and cry-fest that we had those 48-plus hours together.

Cafeterias, hallways, escalators, walkways, cool air… and even more…. all these have sent in floods of nostalgia, waves of cherished memories that I have been drowning in.

But a gasp of fresh air and a sudden resurfacing leads me to sweep those memories back into my memory bank, grateful for them, but now aware that tomorrow will bring another day.

As my eyes begin to give way, I fall asleep knowing that I will awaken to a brand new morning. As the conversations and other sounds around me grow fainter, I acknowledge them to be the sounds and voices that I would be hearing for the next few years of my life. And as I sink deeper into the sofa, as I become truly lost underneath the blankets and comforters, I sink deeper into the reality that I am now here making new memories, lost in the fact that soon, falling asleep in big sofas underneath warm blankets would bring me back to this moment in the Villa Dahlia at the Cameron Highlands.

I sink deeper into this reality. New memories await. And if later on, the waves of nostalgia would come rushing back, I’ll have those new memories to drown in.

I’ll have those new memories to drown in.