Nostalgia

July 26, 2008

Since I've been scrapbooking, there have been a couple projects on my to-do list that I have still not begun, mostly because they are monumental. My relationship with Daniel and our weddings.

Awhile back, I decided that both were big enough projects to be broken down into smaller bites, and that doing that would help me not to feel so overwhelmed, thus blocked.

Lately, I've been giving some thought to just how to approach these projects, how to organize and cut smaller, doable pieces. Last night, I began the expedition through the memorabilia I've saved from the development of our relationship through the planning of the first wedding, and the wedding itself.

There is a lot of good stuff that tells our story. I saved Beliefnet posts, chats, emails, cards he sent, all kinds of bits and pieces that narrate how Daniel and I met and fell in love. And I'm starting to see a clear path toward getting that story told in scrapbook form.

I'm inspired and excited and motivated to start working, where before I was just overwhelmed and stuck in the logistics.

Reading through our chats last night as my beloved read and then slept in the recliner beside me, as night turned to wee hours of morning, I could sense through our words the threads beginning to weave into the tapestry that is us. What a grand experience it was, our falling in love. So unexpected, so surprising, and so perfectly right.

At the same time, I could see how I've changed from a somewhat carefree, vibrant young woman into someone who is sobered and changed by monumental loss, matured by years and sometimes challenging experience. I tend to be troubled by this, a change in me that I can see so clearly when I look back on how I was during the easy tumble into lifelong love with this amazing man who I once only knew as Gentle-Elf.

Life, with its variety of joys and sorrows, does its persistent chipping away, trying us by the fire of loss and disillusionment and frustration with still trying to figure out who we are, what our purpose is. At least, that's how it is for me. It startles me, seeing that Melissa, seven years in the past, as if I actually got into a time machine and went back to July, August, September, October of 2001 and lived it all again, noticing all the ways life since then has changed me.

I am so glad I kept the documentation of that time in my life. As I experience things, there are understandable blind spots, and looking back, I see more clearly. It might be easy to regret how I've changed, to feel as if I'm not today as good or fun or enjoyable a person as I was then. But as Yoda says, always in motion is the future, and I'm proud of a lot of things about myself now, things that were shaped by the last seven years. While I would like to secure myself in some sort of earning potential for my future, I am overall content and happy most of the time.

I have a lust for life, a zest for it, for which I give a lot of credit to the example my father set. I've become quite adept at recognizing life's silver linings, rather than focusing on the clouds. Even while I sometimes feel wistful for the woman I was just as I met and fell for Daniel, I'm pretty happy with my growth since then and the direction in which I'm going. Always learning, always seeking, always endeavoring to become the best Melissa I can be.

When I look back on this me, seven years from now or more, I think I'm going to be pretty proud.