He who clings to nothing of the past, present, and future,
who has no attachment and holds on to nothing,
him do I call a holy man.
—The Dhammapada - Chapter 26, Verse 421
About once a year, I have the chance to drive through the old neighborhood I grew up in, and it never fails to trigger a sense of nostalgia.
Back when pedal-powered transportation was your main ride, you could almost always zoom around long enough to find some other kid outside to play with. And if no one was outside, well, there were always a few houses you could barge into like you owned the place, announcing your unexpected arrival. Your friends’ families were your families, and vice versa.
But the days of welcome familiarity are gone. Now it’s like driving through a ghost town, with strangers inhabiting your old stomping grounds, odd owners illuminating rooms you once played in, eating from the refrigerators you once ate out of, swimming in the pools you once splashed in.
The memories of the past surface and drift by like smoke as you fail to reach out and grasp each of them one last time. The corner where your friend ran his lemonade stand, the crest of the hill the bus dropped you off on, the poison ivy path you’d cut through to save a longer walk around: all just a graveyard with various headstones labeled, “Here lies the memory of [X, Y, or Z].” You see the houses of once great friends and wonder what they’re up to these days, realizing it’s as easy to lose track of others as it is to lose track of time. This inevitable truth of life floats by like the river you once fished out of as children, the image of friends as foggy as the memories themselves. A few of them are already dead and gone, while a few more of them will disappear as time drifts by.
I don’t know why I even drive through the old streets anymore; I could just as easily avoid stirring up these feelings of nostalgia. But instead, I let it run through me like a haunting spirit who’s come back to collect his due, palm out with the expectation I’ll cough up more emotions.
What is a trip down memory lane even good for, when all that’s ahead is the unknown?
Maybe that’s just it, though: a longing for comfort in the illuminated past while faced with the daunting darkness of the future.
Or perhaps it’s just a necessary reminder that time consumes us all.