There was a time I was puzzled by what the term “good old times” meant. I was young then. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could or would like to look back into the past and revel in it. All those reminiscences, the same old stories, songs sang again and again. What was so good about the old times?
Being young I only wanted to look forward into the future. Dreams to pursue. Adventures to embark on. Goals to achieve. New places to visit. More people to meet. My life was fueled by hopes, expectations, and yes, daring and risks. My life was just starting and I had just embarked on the journey called life. I couldn’t wait to get unmoored and sail out to sea.
That is all gone now. I have lived more years than I have left. Much of what I know and am is somewhere in the past. And yes, I have been longing for the good old days. I am not bitter about the past nor am I sad about where I am. It is just that my idea of adventures has somehow changed and yes, mellowed. Much as I would want to go for miles or days on the road. I now tire easily from too much traveling. I still love adventure but I also hate surprises. I want adventures that I am familiar with. I want to know ahead how thing are going to work out. The future had too much uncertainties for me to want to go there. Instead of longing to sail out and go forth, I want to go home. So, I revel in the good old days where most of the events, places and people are familiar and predictable.