~Bridget Daugherty~
Nostalgia By Bridget Daugherty I think sometimes that we would’ve been close. Every memory I have of you on and off that vast green golf course I relish and cling to. I remember your hands and how gentle they were, or how they would quiver slightly. Every memory with you in it is as vivid as what I can see in front of me. I think about often how much I miss you, but is it possible to miss you if I barely saw you when I could and can’t see you today? But I think it’s possible, because I do. I visualize you most clearly in my thoughts with your white visor. I wish I could visit you today and hug you and tell you about everything in my life, like what I’m proudest of. I somewhat remember all your cats and how they cuddled with each other, but I most distinctly remember Fritzy, and how that orange cat was the most doglike cat I’ve ever seen, with his never-ending energy and constant begging us to play. You would be so happy to have us hugging you today. I picture you vividly standing at the counter making root beer floats, the sugary aroma overwhelming my senses; those things were perfectly crafted by you with the coat of foam sitting perfectly on top of the sweet root beer and creamy vanilla ice cream. Your house always smelled like vanilla and catnip, like the kind that covered those little purple mice that you always gave to the cats. To my four-year-old self, your house was as big as the moon, but as I’ve grown, it’s become more comforting and easier to see you in it. You were the best. Every memory surrounding you in my mind is coated in a nice thick layer of nostalgia. |