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its call takes me back to when I was outside all the time as a kid. my cousins and I often explored our family's property together, climbing trees, walking across frozen streams, seeing wildlife and flowers, and really just being innocent children. we aren't really close anymore though.
its call takes me back to taking a walk many years ago. there's a photo from it, me walking up a hill, my toddler self with my grandma and dad holding my hand on either side of me. I've seen the original photo too, with my dad as a toddler walking up the same hill with my grandma about 30 years before that. I'm glad I have that photo because, not long after the photo was taken, she was too.
its call takes me back to being at my grandpa's house early in the morning after my mom dropped me off before work in the summer. maybe there were birds in the birdhouses on the porch. and maybe there were nestlings being taken care of by their mother, and we could hear their soft chirping through the screen door. we had to have the door open because there was no air conditioning. well, not was, there was never air conditioning or heat. but I never minded because he always made sure I was cool or warm or whatever the season called for. I'm freezing now though, and he's not here anymore to help me.
its call takes me back to when things were a lot simpler, and I find peace in that feeling.
Feb 22, 2025
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I detested mourning doves when I was a kid lol. Their repetitive calls drove me crazy when I wanted to sleep in. I’m glad they bring good memories for you though!
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When I think about it, I think most of my nostalgia stems from being a child because I was unequivocally aware that I was filled with joy and trusting my present state. I was able to thrive in naivety because I was around people who had my best interest at heart. I didn't feel heartbreak simply because I was a child and had no purpose to date. I never felt true betrayal (even on the contrary of my second grade best friend randomly becoming my third grade bully...or attempted bully). My friends lived next door and on hot summer days we stayed outside from sun up til the street lights came on. Riding around the neighborhood on our bikes, buying candy from the corner store, then playing hopscotch with the bigger kids across the street. The nostalgia to truly feel free from the complexities that I face daily with interactions.
I look back and my sisters and brothers were always around. I think about the days where we danced and sang songs. Never aware that that day was the last day where we are under the same roof, laughing and mocking but with so much love in our hearts that we don't care. We just feel good.
Apr 24, 2024
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-i don't feel happy in the moment very often. but when i look back, i know when something was good.
-imagining how my dog feels when he chases a ball, or how a tree feels when it's sunny,
i dont think you can pursue it, it's just something that happens, like the weather
May 15, 2024
My Melodramatic Dispatch (Pt. 2 of ?)
TLDR: Summers feel different now.
The older I get… the more I remember:
Stinging hot pavement under bare feet as I raced around the block, hiding from and chasing others in hide-and-seek.
The feeling of grass and dirt squishing between my toes as I paused mid-run, gasping, hair tangled — fully alive and present.
The smell of smoke in the evening light as I crossed the street to join in making s’mores.
I remember the rush of wind as I soared on the oak tree swing made of rope and wood, my stomach flipping the higher I climbed. It felt like flying.
I remember the musk of the playhouse — getting it ready for an imaginary guest. And the day I jammed my left thumb in one of the window sills, sealed so tightly shut it popped when we finally wrenched it open.
I remember the taste of sweet popsicles from Costco — the ones that cut the sides of your mouth if you weren’t careful with the plastic.
The fried chicken my grandma would make for dinner, and eating it outside on the front porch. Inside, the air was thick with grease, wafting through the window screens.
When they were ripe, we’d go blackberry picking on the trails. And when we got home, we’d pour them over bowls of vanilla ice cream - stinging & cut fingers be damned.
When we flew out to Illinois for family reunions, my cousins, siblings and I would grab empty bottles and run through the park catching fireflies at dusk.
I remember the ice cream truck’s lilting tune, coaxing us out of the shade for a sweet treat.
And the smell of pancakes in the morning at my friend’s house — her mom setting the backyard table for breakfast after a sleepover.
I remember walking home afterward — full, tired - still in yesterday’s clothes.
The older I get, the more I cherish summer — in a bittersweet, remembering kind of way.
There’s a softer anticipation now for this year’s version of it — and a small ache for the ones I’ve already lived.
For the girl I was those past summers: unburdened, wilder, breath sharp in my lungs — racing barefoot down Tolmie Avenue.
Jun 25, 2025
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