Last night an old friend shared a class picture on the Facebook (I know it doesn’t need an article, I just like the way the old folks say it). It wasn’t the entire class, just one section. I wasn’t even in the photo. I think that helped it out a lot. A funny thing happened when I saw that photo. A warm , fuzzy kinda thing welled up inside. I know a dude shouldn’t let that happen but there it was.
I scanned the photo to see who I recognized. The picture was from the sixth grade so some of the faces had changed. All of the hairdos were different except for one guy who looks the same now as then, giving the impression that the kid in the picture was simply his Mini-Me. Then there was the ones that I struggled to recall. Miraculously , as if someone was in my head cleaning cobwebs from the crevices, those old faces one by one cleared up for me. By the time I was done all but one had come to me. I smiled a little when I thought on those little (size, not worth) people and how they had influenced my time here.
I laughed a little, at the ones I am still acquainted with and how much they had changed. I tuned up a little too, when I thought about the ones who are gone now. Sometimes I struggle to make sense of their departure while I am still here. There were faces I had not seen since high school and I wondered where they were now. Through all of this trip to wherever my heart was headed I still kept the warm fuzzies, which is good for the soul, I think. It is good for our health from time to time to have one of these mental homecomings. Then I perceived something else was going on. One by one my notifications kept popping up. I wasn’t alone on this journey down the back road.
Old friends were commenting and tagging each other on Facebook (I dropped the article because it bothered you the first time). Tag sure has changed since that picture was taken. One would ask who that was on the back row, third from the left. Another would inquire as to who the teacher was. Then someone would recuse themselves from the photo after being mistaken for someone else. On and on went the conversation and I loved it. I didn’t feel quite as emasculated for entertaining the warm fuzzies longer than a man should. I wasn’t the only one who was traveling through time. I had some old friends going with me.
It’s a wonderful thing to take trips down memory lane. It is even better to haul a bunch of folks with you. We cannot go back and stay there but it sure is nice to visit from time to time. I love the life that I have now. It is right where I want to be. Sometimes, though, we need to reminisce on the people we’ve known and the places we’ve been. I think it helps us to understand a little better who we are. If nothing else it stirs up the warm fuzzies one more time. This old, cold world needs a lot more of that.