Nostalgia creeps up on you,
Surprises you,
From places you cannot see.
It's the little white trashcan.
Watching your husbands toe,
as it presses the pedal down.
Nostalgia is funny in that moment,
How it creates such emotion...
To watch the lid just barely peek open,
Before it flings wide exaggeratedly.
Suddenly I'm drug into visions past.
Seeing the trashcan in my childhood home.
Wondering how this can could last,
and last some test of time.
Grateful that my husband said
'I want that in my home'.
Only for me to flash forward,
See my daughter look at the can.
Does she wonder...
How long will this can last in my home?
As you span through time,
And find these little things.
That seem to mean nothing.
That can set your heart on fire.
Feeling amazed by these small things,
How they bring a tear to your eye.
Will I hear my daughter say,
'I remember this trashcan in my house
And wondered how did it last.'
It's the silly little things,
Those things that sit in the corner.
That nostalgia uses.
Keeping you centered.
To keep you home.
DGD 04.17.17
Nostalgia creeps up on you and surprises you places you cannot see
While you watch your husbands toe press the pedal down in the lead flinging open quite exaggeratedly.
It's funny how that moment can create such emotion...to watch the lid just barely peek before it flings wide open. Suddenly I'm drug into visions past and seeing the trashcan in my childhood home wondering how this last.
grateful that my husband has been said I want that in my home only for me to flash forward and see my daughter wonder how did this last in my home
then as you span through time and find that these little things that seem to mean nothing can set your heart on fire and amazed of these don't bring a tear to your eye when you hear your daughter say I remember this trashcan in my house and wondered how did it last. Only to have my husband look at it and want to bring it home
it's the silly little things that in the corner still. That nostalgia uses to keep you centered and keep you home.
