Every so often I have pockets of moments where I miss my old life. I miss the way it smelled, the way it sounded, and the way it tasted. It’s like that moment when you’re visiting a different country and think you see someone you know. It’s that glimpse of familiarity that makes me yearn for a life I once knew.
Missing my old life is a tricky business because it digs and dwells on the ‘ifs’ and the ‘should haves’. It’s greedy and bewitching, making me want more than what I already have. It wraps itself around me like a warm blanket I want to wear forever. Most days I would hold onto that blanket for as long as I could. Today is different. Today I fold it neatly and tuck it away in a draw. I thank my old life for everything it has given me – from all the tears in my jeans to all the laugh lines on my face. I thank my old life for opening the door as I leave with all of my baggage. I thank my old life for making my new life possible, and for that, it will always have a spot in my draw.