“One is always at home in one’s past.” – Vladimir Nabokov

l’d been thinking a lot about nostalgia lately and then this National Geographic article (click here) popped into my email inbox. I was surprised by the timeliness of it – especially in light of an interesting experience I’d had recently that centered around this card.

I was making a purchase at the register in a drug store when this little orange Snoopy card caught the corner of my eye. It was instantly familiar and I snatched it from the display. I was a little disappointed because I initially thought it was a deck of cards, but this miniature greeting card was the next best thing and it was going to be mine. When the cashier pointed out that it was the only one left and it didn’t have an envelope, I said that I didn’t care because I wouldn’t be giving it away. Curious, she asked what was so special about this little Snoopy. I smiled and said simply, “It reminds me of my childhood.” Then we spent the next few minutes talking about the strange things that stir up our memories — things that, while they were insignificant at the time, they bring us joy later in our lives.

The reason that I was disappointed this little greeting wasn’t a deck of cards is because it reminded me of the ones she used in her bridge games when I was growing up. For a brief moment, I was transported to my childhood home. The house always seemed warmer and brighter because the living room lamps threw out extra light. The kitchen floor gleamed and smelled so clean, thanks to my dad’s careful wash and wax the night before. Coffee was always brewing while snacks were laid out on the kitchen table — including the Starbursts and pastel mints that I always managed to sneak, although we generally made ourselves scarce while company was still there. The ladies’ chatter and laughter filled the house, in addition to some quiet lulls of concentration on the play at hand.

I couldn’t imagine why such a tiny snapshot from the past could make me so nostalgic – to the point that it engaged all of my senses. But I suppose we all long for a simpler time. A time where we were safe and loved, not yet exposed to many of the complexities of adulthood.

Not to say that childhood or our past should be distorted, glorified or rewritten to take an idyllic form. Of course not; nothing is perfect. But it’s sure nice to be able to go back home in our minds – even if it’s just for a glimpse. And my little Snoopy card will be framed and serve as a quick ticket to a warm memory from here on out.