Don’t let me turn to sand and blow away

Sometimes I hear a song and I am overcome by a sense of nostalgia so strong that I feel as though I might never recover.

I know this can read a little dramatic (and hyperbolic) – but it’s true.

I’ve been listening to Spoon’s new album quite a bit, and every time I get to the last track “New York Kiss”, it’s like an electric current of memories (memories of which I cannot even remember living) shooting straight from my brain to the deepest recesses of my heart.

This in turn produces two very unique and separate reactions: I am overcome by both a manic, academic urgency, and a mellow, practical satisfaction.

The competition between these dichotomies is stiff.

My first inclination is to press pause on this hyper, whirling world of ours and take stock of all of the ideas, dreams, and goals currently percolating inside the depths of my brain.

My immediate urge to write, to run, to play dress-up with every outfit hanging in my closet, to phone up every loved one (not only current but also long-lost) and tell them how much of an impact they have made on my life is only bested by my paralyzing and chest-clenching fear that I am not doing enough with my life.

I SHOULD BE DOING MORE (I say to myself.)

On the other hand, hearing these songs make me want to snuggle up and hunker down. I want slowly read through the dusty, tea-spattered pages of my life’s chronicle, feel the curled edges of each aging page and smell the faint traces of sunshine, grass, gravel, and rain that have helped make up the thoughts and words for each entry and each day.

I just want to sit and re-live. To feel. To breathe in the years and marvel at all the miraculous things I have done with my body and mind.

But most of all to feel all of the love that I have given and all the love that I have received, and allow my heart to beat just that little bit faster at the thought of all the love that has yet to be.


Published by

Vanessa Woznow

Writer, runner, ranter, reader. I write about all things.

5 thoughts on “Don’t let me turn to sand and blow away”

  1. I think it’s those synths. I hear a bit of this in there at one point:

    Over the weekend, a flock of honking geese flew overhead and I was overcome with nostalgia, and I thought nostalgia, particularly as we age, becomes as powerful as love.

  2. Wonderful writing, Vanessa! I always enjoy your posts so much, especially as they are so well written and engaging. Heather and I are wondering if you guys would like to have a Retro TV night at either her place our mine in the next month or so? Pizza, chips, frightening ’70s clothes and laughs await you! Please let us know. Love Greemo xxx

  3. First thought that entered my mind (well, maybe the millionth because the thoughts in my brain rain like post-it notes folded up into tiny airplanes, and I’m lucky if I can hang onto one): Thank GOD there are two of us like this in the world. It’s less paralyzing and overwhelming (in a small, teensy way) if there’s another companion/commiserator. (Commiserator is not a word, but this is my comment, I’ll create words if I choose.)

    Second thought: This song, while not even my favorite, definitely has a nostalgic feel. I’m not sure why, but it evoked some of the same emotions and thoughts in me as well.

    Chris Malinchak’s “So Good to Me” makes me feel even more so the same emotions, only far more intense. I’m filled with hope and optimism when I play it.

    Third thought: (Please don’t throw me in the bin.) Are you expecting? Crazy thought, perhaps, but it popped into my mind.

    1. Haha! OMG you are the second person in a matter of days to ask me this. But no, alas, I am not. It’s on the longer-term agenda!

      And I am digging that tune. I am picking up what you’re putting down.

      Also I love having you as a commiserator! And for making up words. IT WORKS.

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