I Can't Get It Back

I am overcome today by the tragedy of my lost past. By the overwhelming realization that nothing is permanent; that in order to move forward we must leave behind what we have been, and that those moments - golden, enshrined in memory - will never return to us. I can't turn back the clock. All I have are shadows.

I can't go back to that time when my siblings and I all lived and played together. When we were young enough not to notice how chubby our cheeks were, still young enough to be enraptured by a game of tag. I can almost hear my little sisters, my little brother, laughing in my head. But I can't get it back.

I can't go back to those years I spent walking to and from school with my best friends - Eric, Logan, Drew, and Adam. The stories we made up, the inside jokes that were created by the mere mileage we racked up on that 15 minute daily walk, echo inside of me. Those conversations, those friendships, forged my character and made me who I am. That time is a part of me. But I can't get it back.

I can't go back to that tree in Amanda's backyard, where the two of us used to play all summer long. I remember the game we made up - she pretended to be a spider, I pretended to be a praying mantis - even if I don't remember the rules or the purpose of the game. I remember her infection smile, and the way her courage inspired me. But I can't get it back.

I can't go back to all of those plays in junior high and high school. All of the friends who came loudly into my life and stomped around joyously in my heart. When did they leave? How did I not notice the silence that was falling around me? I can still see their faces, the make-up smeared over them. But I can't get it back.

I can't go back to my first job at BYU - cleaning offices at 4:00am with the greatest crew of people I've ever known. Damon, do you remember when I wrote that song about you for the Christmas party? And Alena, my Minion, when did we stop messaging each other on Facebook? We swore we would keep in touch. But it's gone now. And I can't get it back.

I can't go back to those days in St. Petersburg. The marvel of the sights and sounds mixed equally with the ardor of difficult work and homesickness, but I loved being there with those kids - Lyra, Ivan, and my sweet sister Evelyn. My host parents, Oleg and Sonia, with their bright smiles that I never returned often enough. And the other girls: Clarie, Leslie, Jodi, Bekka, Allison, Heather, and Kaylie. I have such fond memories of each of them. Such a warmth in my heart for the time we spent there. But I can't get it back.

And now here I am. With so many amazing people having passed through my life, how is it possible that I have wound up alone? In this moment, in this place, I have no one. All I have is a heart ripped to pieces, stringing out across the world as it reaches for my old friends, my family.

Can they feel me? Do they remember me? Do they wish we could get it back, too?

I have never felt so much pain from the realization that I have had a wonderful life. But that's the problem with the present: it's impossible to know if there is more happiness lying ahead of you. Nothing is guaranteed; and when you've had a life as good as mine has been, sometimes you wonder if you've used up your quota of good fortune. I have had such a gloriously happy life.

But I can't get it back.

And it haunts me.