I assume everyone’s had that one carefree feeling as a kid?
You know, you’re out playing some sort of sport on grass that somehow feels like the softest thing ever. The sun’s rays hit you at just the right angle, so you feel as if you’re aglow — but not like you’re about to get sunburnt, because who really cared about sunscreen? You’re running around, wind blowing through your messy hair (who cares if it’s messy? Bigger problems await — like how to escape eating broccoli for dinner), thinking you’re the fastest person in the world.
And honestly, you may as well be. You’re on top of the world. Your world.
Well, vivid imagery aside, the point is that I recently tried to recreate that feeling. Sort of.
I’d just moved and was walking around near a park — because who doesn’t like a long walk? — when I stumbled upon three people playing cricket. Now, I love cricket. Playing, watching, anything. So I asked if I could join, and join I did. I had a lovely time. Just getting in there and batting is all one could ask for. And to the lady who ended up being hit by the ball... yeah, my apologies.
I had a genuinely good time. But as I headed back to my house, with the sun setting behind me, I couldn’t help but think, “Man, this brings back memories of what it felt like to be a child.”
So why in the world was I reminiscing about times I had as a kid when what I’d just experienced was basically the same?
But it just isn’t, is it? At some point, life forces you to grow up, and suddenly you wake up with facial hair, responsibilities, taxes, or whatever. Congratulations! You’re finally what you wanted to be your whole childhood — an adult.
And so you carry life’s worries around with you, stressing over the same menial tasks like Sisyphus with his boulder. “One must imagine Sisyphus happy”? Perhaps. But that boulder looks heavy, if you ask me.
So what if the nostalgia I experienced walking back that evening wasn’t just the nostalgia of playing cricket in the park with the same people I did as a child?
What if the nostalgia was... me?
I mean, we see this everywhere around us and don’t really think about it.
Odd example incoming, but it’s somehow a topic of conversation again: Fortnite brought back its old map. Let’s forget the technical nuances of how it differs from the old map and instead focus on the people playing. Here, that’s you.
You’re just not going to get the same feeling, are you? Well, I suppose you might — initially. You’ll relive your childhood joys temporarily. But that’s the thing: nostalgia isn’t enough of a driver to keep you hooked on the game. One day, you’ll plug in your PlayStation, load up Fortnite, and in the back of your head, you’ll hear the nagging voice about the unfinished basket of laundry, the dishes that need washing, and the floors that need vacuuming.
And that game of Fortnite becomes weighed down by burdens. Your carefree 13-year-old self doesn’t exist anymore, and neither does the feeling they brought.
Take the “Prime Barclays” Premier League trend. Sure, there’s discourse to be had about whether the quality of football has actually deteriorated, but what if you just miss rushing home from school, throwing your backpack on the bed, and sitting in front of your couch, dinner in hand, waiting for kick-off?
Yeah, okay, you had homework, but that could wait. You’d slept eight hours. Thierry Henry is running down the wing, and you’re sitting there kicking a ball against the wall.
Now? You have work. And your fussy boss won’t let things wait. You’ve slept three hours, and coffee is life’s only sustenance. You would kick a ball against a wall, but you might also break the wall, and that’s just another thing to fix and pay for. And zzz — you’ve fallen asleep because the coffee wore off.
Not exactly the same feeling, is it?
Yes, there’s some exaggeration. But it’s just a really difficult feeling to recreate. Bring in societal pressures, that smart little electronic slab in your pocket, and the constant barrage of information shoved down your throat at a rate fast enough to choke a robot — and how in the world do you feel truly carefree?
So as I walk back from a fun and spontaneous evening of cricket, what am I really missing? And is it something I’ll ever get back?
Probably not. But life happens. And someday I’ll probably look back at me sitting in this noisy library with a wistful look. Wouldn't that be poetic?