Nostalgia can be categorized as a regretful emotional desire for the past, regularly in a romanticized form. The word nostalgia also has health importance, mentioning it as a form of downhearted. Nostalgia often states to the good old days or past remembrance which become ideal in the present situations. Nostalgia is a desire for positions that no extensively occur or have never occurred. Nostalgia has a supreme measurement due to the substantial part that fancy plays in it. Hence, nostalgia is mostly about a simulated authenticity that cannot be represented. In this sense, nostalgia is not about the past all the time; it can also be concentrating toward the future or the present. Nostalgia is a sentimental yearning as it syndicates the pleasurable feeling of the past with agony and misery because of its nonappearance, its satisfaction is very optimistic, but its nonexistence causes discomfort.
It was September. I (Jane) was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Rock being a mom noisily discussing the compensatory potentials of two different varieties of air fresheners, while the hard place being the point of sale line of the bed bath & beyond in providence place mall, the relief being the instinct purchasing of a $25 umbrella.
I urges to buy, but I had really desired for this umbrella for relatively some time. It was made of durable, long-lasting plastic vaulted over a mushroom molded frame. It was spontaneous in the sense that I hadn’t been scheduling to mishap upon somewhat I had expected for in such an arbitrary place. I have assumed to purchase cavalierly to something that I had dignified in my mind. But still, I bought it. We shared a little transitory rainy day together, twisting the cobbled paths and enchanting in the aromas of freshly dampened mud sweet and green and flourishing. We have been in the coffee shop and had the coffee, but then, I lost my favorite umbrella. It had been an extended day, full of cough droplets and two and a half hour classes along with the social separation in the entrails of the rock. I forgot my bubble umbrella, recklessly in the corner behind the desk where I had put it.
I didn’t understand my massacre, my disloyalty, my unfaithful mistake until hours. Clad is there in my nightdresses and a gigantic denim jacket, I made the walk in light shower to Salomon to save my favorite. The mockery of the current rain was not lost on me, and I allowed myself to imagine, for some time, about my triumphant walk home, united with my umbrella and safe from the rain. In my monotonous walk back to Wriston, I grieved and celebrated the life of the fizz. I couldn’t support but consider the umbrella this much loveable wasn’t intended to last in my life. The umbrella was out of my group in a game that I wasn’t sure whether I would play the game or not.
An umbrella this love justifies assurance. I had just criticized about its unpackaged to someone earlier, lamenting the space it took up in my life compared to others, comparatively shorter umbrellas, ones that gracefully connected into a compacted package I could disguise in my pack rather than transport at all times. I protested about the energy necessary to preserve the Bubble’s presence in my life while taking for granted the happiness it brought me. I wanted the enjoyment of the object without the responsibility to it. I estimate if there’s any silver coating here, it’s that I had the blessing of knowing that umbrella at all. I feel thoughtless for intellectual that I ever had the right to lay claim to such a bold and undomesticated soul.
