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The week that I got my license was a very eventful week. I rode on a plane for the first time, I visited my Great Grandfathers grave, saw where my mom spent her childhood, and went on my first official recruitment visit. On the plane ride home, I remember being "asleep" like I used to pretend to do when I wanted my parents to carry me to bed. While I was "asleep" I could hear my mom talking to the person sitting in the seat next to her talking about West Virginia and what it was like growing up around their. My mom spent every summer with my Great Grandparents in the small town of Sistersville, WV. She was telling this lady about going to the community pool, dairy queen, and all the hiking trails she went on. The whole time I was thinking my summer with my grandparents.
Every summer my brother and my cousin always stayed with my mom’s mother. We went all over the place. The main spot we went to though was the pier at Ocean Isle Beach. We spent the majority of every summer there. It’s where I learned how to swim, how to “surf” even though I wasn’t that good at it, where I made some of my best friends. It’s just a place I could always call my second home. If we weren’t there we were biking on random trails in my cousins neighborhood. On the way home from the airport that day my mom was retelling these stories to her cousin on the phone. She also began talking about her little girl aka me growing up. I could tell that she was reminiscing too. It’s crazy to think that in this week full of first we were all thinking about the past. I feel like this moment hearing my talk about her childhood and mine and me thinking about my childhood is a clear defining point of the term nostalgia. We just craved the past.