Does anyone else ever feel like they can slip right back into an old life? I get the feeling that no time period actually ends. There’s never a real last day at a job, last exam of a class, or last night at an apartment. Well, that’s not entirely true: I remember lots of last days, nights, and exams. They definitely happened. It’s more that those moments to mark passage–the rituals that accompany change (for our last night in Massachusetts, we ate pizza and watched Sherlock on the mattress dragged into our tiny, empty living room) don’t ever fully succeed. Those pre-change scenarios are still possible. Or, they feel possible.
In a minute I might tie up my apron at the bakery after high school, take a midnight walk to 7-11 from Stonehill College, or pop down to Davis Square on the 96.
Moving back to my hometown may be exacerbating these nostalgic feelings; I’m in a city I return to and leave from, and it’s strange to have not left (again) yet. At the same time, I do believe that past events in specific times and places are indeed still happening. Somewhere.
“Eternity is in love with the productions of time,” writes William Blake. I think time is a bit eternal in its own way.