Longing Is Not Nostalgia But It Is As Sweet
Thursday, February 05, 2009
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drifting down the stream -
Lingering in the golden gleam -
Life, what is it but a dream?
Lewis Carol, Epilogue to Through the Looking-Glass
Of late I have felt a nostalgia for a hot Buenos Aires midnight at Pizzeria Burgio on Cabildo Avenue. Four years ago in November, Rosemary, Rebecca and I sat at a table on the sidewalk. I ordered a pizza, cokes for the girls and an ice-cold moscato for myself. Rebecca was curious and had a sip. Moscato tastes like very good sweet grape juice, but it isn't! Rebecca loved it. I told her, "Don't tell your other grandmother. She might not approve."
I discern a difference between nostalgia and a longing. I long for spring with the roses in bloom and their crisp aroma. I long for taking pictures of Rebecca and of Lauren as they walk barefoot on the lawn. I can smell it and imagine their delight in the coolness of the grass as its moisture slips between their toes.
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