i held pictures of my youth in my hands as i felt my bedroom carpet making designs on the backs of my thighs.
nostalgia,
something that i live off of,
something i can talk about for centuries.
i could talk about the trips with my grandparents to mexico and europe,
how i loved their rv with corduroy seats.
i could talk about the circus and how my parents took my sisters and i every year,
how i begged for cotton candy and cried as i was reminded every year of how beautiful elephants are.
or i could fast forward and talk about the things that are too small to remember like being on google earth in my elementary school's computer lab.
or the smell of the library and how i adore the feeling of the wooden chairs being pulled from the carpet underneath.
i held pictures of my youth,
all baby hairs
and pigtails.
nostalgia,
how i miss it.