On nostalgia

As a “probinsyana” who dreamed big and had to leave her hometown for better access to tertiary education, I never thought nostalgia would hit me this hard. Like many, routines disconcert me. I strive for growth and progress, so I’m asking myself now: why am I longing to return to my life before?

I recently visited my hometown. The drive alone had evoked a nostalgic feeling that left me gloomy and reminiscent for the rest of the trip. It was only three years since I last went there for a short vacation, but it still amazes me that so much has changed, but it all still feels the same. So many buildings and infrastructures were built, the places where there used to be huge trees were no longer there, and the bumpy country lanes are now a smooth four-way road. And yet, I felt like a nine-year-old again, coming home from the town center to my grandparents’ house in the barrio.

I remember the feeling of having my first crush, disregarding the grief of losing my first pet. I remember the taste of my favorite dish in a restaurant we dined in every Sunday, forgetting all the days that I ate alone in our desolate kitchen because my parents were away. I remember unplanned rendezvous with my friends—the laughter, gossip, and planning of our lives together. While bearing myself off the nagging regret for all the friendships I lost, the connections that fell out, and the people I once called my “soulmates” until we inevitably drifted apart.

Nostalgia is a tricky companion. It will remind you of all the romanticized versions of places, people, things, and experiences until you are left with a burning desire to live the life you once had. Oh, so cunning, reminding you of the past without its blemishes. One without the mistakes, an illusion that it was better than it actually was, and one where the gest of now justified your flaws and failures.

For a 20-year-old and an incoming third-year engineering student in my dream university, I’d like to think I followed through with my life decisions responsibly and well. I’m definitely happy where I am now, grateful for all the people in my life whom I know I’d never met had I stayed in my hometown, and honored to have the privilege of such experiences for the past four years after I stepped into the city and out of my comfort zone. If I weigh the pros and cons of leaving, the pros would definitely outnumber the cons by a mile, but sitting there in the passenger seat of the old van while my Lolo complained about the persistent traffic near the marketplace, I couldn’t help but wish to go back to the times where that was my every day.

I once read that nostalgia is the enemy of progress. It compelled me to refuse to dwell on this feeling because I thought it would keep me blindsided by the sweet memories of the past that I’d forget to acknowledge the beauty of today. But, in hindsight of my recent trip, I’ve resolved that nostalgia is a friend of progress. So, every once in a while, it’s okay to go back to places, listen to songs, reconnect with people, eat the food, and feel the feelings that will remind you that your life had roots, and in the present and future, a continuity.

Instead of dwelling on the desire to go back, use it as a strength to move forward. It’s a bittersweet feeling, much like our life is a series of ups and downs. Sometimes it’s rewarding to think that there was a time when we felt that much love, hope, and connection, but it can also leave us scared that we might never experience it again. The key is to have courage. Maybe the future holds greater love, a stronger connection, and the fulfillment of our hopes.

I know someday I’d nostalgically look back to now and, as silly as it may sound, I’m looking forward to it. From where I am, to where I was, to where I will be, I’m learning to embrace the fact that nostalgia will be my constant companion.

So, suppose you’re anything like me who’d write a sentimental think piece about visiting her hometown. In that case, I challenge you to use that nostalgia to brave through the cycle of thoughts of “what ifs,” and instead, ponder through it as in previous chapters of our lives that are still being written.

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Ellaine Persia, 20, is a sophomore student at the University of the Philippines Los Baños.