Remnants of Before

I drove around tonight. I drove through back roads that no one knew I used to take to visit Allison from where I used to live. I even cracked my window down so that I could smell the piney air--the scent that made me feel like I was coming home the first time I took the windy road to get to my former church. I sometimes miss the "old" days. I adore my husband and I enjoy my new life, but I would be lying if I said I don't miss certain aspects from my past, too. I miss the friendships. I see my old friends from time to time, but we aren't the same family that we were before. We now spend our meetings catching up because we didn't just see each other yesterday. I miss that closeness. I miss the freedom of living near my friends. I sometimes wonder if I would be happier if John and I just picked up and moved closer to them. But we realistically cannot afford that and, even more, I realistically don't think it would make me any happier. Even before I met John, things had changed. And somehow the changes just seem to make life more complicated. But perhpas the complication is in the fact that a part of my heart desperately wants to cling to what has gone. It gets complicated to try to recreate the past in an entirely different present. A present, I might add, that I can't even get a handle on by itself without longing for days of yore. I value what my friendships have become, but part of me still misses what they were. I wouldn't change my current situation, but I would like to at least briefly taste again what I had. The essence of life, however, prohibits such indulgence. I can reminisce with the sights, sounds, and smells, but I can transport myself back only in mind and not in body. Moving ever forward into deeper realms of complication as I try to integrate who I was with who I am.