Contemplation

We were at a beach in Maine this Spring Break. It was pretty cold because of the strong winds, but it was sunny and there was a beautiful view.

I haven’t been to many beaches. My sensitive skin always burns extremely quickly in the sun. It’s also a simple fact about me that I don’t like the cold. Many find this funny. A Canadian who doesn’t like the cold.

A pair of my friends were taking a casual stroll on the sand, pointing out various points along the horizon to each other.

Another pair of friends were looking around for sea glass. I could hear their occasional gasps of awe and excitement at the colors and the texture of the rocks that they’ve found.

The third pair of friends were running around and chasing each other. I could hear their shrieks and laughter from the distance.

There was an ongoing joke on this trip with this seventh wheeling situation I was in. The first pair were like the parents, the second pair are the funky aunt and uncle, the third pair were like if it would be my sister who had brought her boyfriend on our family trip. Some distance from me in the sand was a little family tree that one of us drew.

I had a lot of fun and they took good care of me: making food for me for our family dinners as I can’t cook well, letting me sleep for hours in their cars (the environment in the two cars having fully opposite vibes), hiking together, cracking endless jokes and creating funny memorable situations, and having comedy movie nights together.

I was slowly trucking around in the sand, some distance away from each of them. I always liked taking nature photographs, so I took my phone and snapped quite a number of photos of the view.

I texted all the photos to my parents. They immediately responded with awe at the beautiful landscape, with additional excited emojis since we’ve always liked visiting nature trails together at home, and with happy messages that I was getting a healthy dose of nature during my break from college.

I stared out at all the calm and pretty blue, my mind deciding that it’s a good place to be nostalgic and contemplative.

Why nostalgia?

As a single child at home, I’ve always had a lot of time to myself. As a musician and pianist majority of my life, I’ve always had a good memory.

As a young child, nostalgia was simple. I would have a seemingly endless bank of good, fun, funny memories with those close to me. I would tell a memory as if I was a magician pulling a bunny out of a hat when I was with others. Anything from the time when I brought my stuffed bunny to my piano lessons, to climbing upwards on slides like a monkey to play grounders on a playground, to playing hide and seek at a friend’s house.

As I grew up, nostalgia changed. While the fun memories with friends were still present, there have been other experiences that I’ve gathered. Some broken friendships as we matured and got far apart after arguments, combating stage fright as a constant performer, many busy weeks buried under hours of homework and ensemble rehearsals.

But along with it all, new experiences have been gained: bonding with classmates over our love with Marvel and singing Riptide and Wonderwal during bonfires on annual camping trips, learning valuable lessons in music on patience and listening to others, and loving challenges presented on math, coding, and physics competitions.

Now off in college, nostalgia has changed a little more. I am much farther away from home, and farther away from my parents. Nostalgia was also for home. For mom’s cooking of my favorite dishes, dad’s funny jokes during meals, Canada’s snowy winters and years of making snow angels, and my parents’ never ending support.

But I’ve grown to be more independent. Yes, I’ve exploded an egg in my first semester here at Brown by boiling it in my kettle. That quickly inspired me to learn how to make poached eggs. I’ve also gotten better at managing my schedule, with balancing work and my social life.

I know that there can be danger with overthinking about the past. But, experiences are important to me, no matter good or bad. (I also am definitely an overthinker). There is something to learn and cherish from each of them. Each experience is like a story with a moral in it, like the fairy tales and myths I loved reading in the past.

As I stared out at the peaceful waves of blue, surrounded by the new friends I made on this trip, I smiled, knowing that this is another experience to add to my book.