Here in the mountains of Appalachia, summer is descending at a subtle pace. I cannot explain the emotion of nostalgia and utter happiness that fills me when I smell that sweet scent of honeysuckle in the evening air and know that summer is soon to arrive. It happens every year. I drive along with my windows down and get hit with a pocket of delicious scent. All I want to do in that moment is stop and inhale the aroma.
It transports me back to my teenage years. I can remember honeysuckle blooming right as school was ending as if it was marking the beginning of freedom. Waking up late, lazy days spent exploring the area around our house and hanging out with friends. Evenings spent on the porch rocking in a chair and putting together puzzles as the fireflies gradually lit up the forest in front of me. At times, we would climb through the bushes and begin pulling the flowers off carefully before pulling the stamen from the flower. Darting our tongue out and savoring the sweet nectar with a flash burst that disappeared way too soon.
What it does now, as an adult, is bring back a sense of longing for a time with less responsibility and more freedom. Something that each of us long for and rarely get. As a writer, I use it to inspire. I find that using those emotions, nature, and memories to create a piece of art helps purify those moments of nostalgia. It provides a tangible evidence of moment's past. It is almost like a cleansing of the soul. A way to change the past into something more happy. Much like the currents that are hidden underneath daily life, change is inevitable.
I have changed from that young, naive girl who savored the nectar of the honeysuckle. Through the years, my sight of the world has changed. I no longer see it as a world of wonder. I see the gruesome, the injustice, the downright disgusting. I see the base of human behavior and how with a touch we can destroy or uplift. And despite this change of sight, I still seek moments where I can transport myself to a time when life was simpler. I find myself lounging in the ever increasing summer winds hoping for the scent of honeysuckle and the boat to take me back.
It transports me back to my teenage years. I can remember honeysuckle blooming right as school was ending as if it was marking the beginning of freedom. Waking up late, lazy days spent exploring the area around our house and hanging out with friends. Evenings spent on the porch rocking in a chair and putting together puzzles as the fireflies gradually lit up the forest in front of me. At times, we would climb through the bushes and begin pulling the flowers off carefully before pulling the stamen from the flower. Darting our tongue out and savoring the sweet nectar with a flash burst that disappeared way too soon.
What it does now, as an adult, is bring back a sense of longing for a time with less responsibility and more freedom. Something that each of us long for and rarely get. As a writer, I use it to inspire. I find that using those emotions, nature, and memories to create a piece of art helps purify those moments of nostalgia. It provides a tangible evidence of moment's past. It is almost like a cleansing of the soul. A way to change the past into something more happy. Much like the currents that are hidden underneath daily life, change is inevitable.
I have changed from that young, naive girl who savored the nectar of the honeysuckle. Through the years, my sight of the world has changed. I no longer see it as a world of wonder. I see the gruesome, the injustice, the downright disgusting. I see the base of human behavior and how with a touch we can destroy or uplift. And despite this change of sight, I still seek moments where I can transport myself to a time when life was simpler. I find myself lounging in the ever increasing summer winds hoping for the scent of honeysuckle and the boat to take me back.
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