Nostalgia: That sneaky time traveller in pajamas

There’s a moment, just one, when you’re sipping tea, and suddenly, the steam smells like your mother’s kitchen. Or you hear a ringtone and flash back to your first phone, your first heartbreak, and your best friend who knew your landline number by heart. That’s nostalgia. A time-travelling ninja with no concept of boundaries or consent. It shows up uninvited, often overdressed in emotion and smelling suspiciously like the 90s. 

We like to think nostalgia is poetic. And it is, until it punches you in the gut with a Facebook memory of someone who’s now just a name, you scroll past. Or when an old song plays and you instinctively smile before remembering you don’t speak to them anymore. Or when you open a cupboard and find a photo album (yes, the physical kind), and suddenly your Sunday is ruined because you “just wanted to clean.” 

Nostalgia is the only time machine that requires no fuel; just feelings. It’ll take you back to your first school uniform, the thrill of handwritten letters, cassette tapes, Orkut testimonials, and that one roadside “chat” stall that probably violated every health code but healed your soul. And don’t even get me started on the joy of watching bad television with good people. 

But here’s your moment of truth: those times aren’t coming back. Not the people, not the versions of ourselves that existed then, not the circumstances. The chat stall is probably a Domino’s now, your Walkman is vintage ( read that obsolete!), and your crush from 1997 is busy with his children and posting happy family pictures on Instagram. 

So, what do we do with all this bittersweet emotional clutter? 

First, honour it! Let nostalgia knock. Let it come in, take its shoes off, and talk to you. But don’t let it move in. Acknowledge that your past mattered. It shaped you. It gave you inside jokes, emotional calluses, and a playlist you pretend not to listen to anymore. 

Second, edit the memory reel! Nostalgia is a selective editor. It trims the fights, the acne, the awkward silences, and leaves only the golden glow. That’s fine. But don’t compare today’s real life with yesterday’s highlight reel. That’s how you end up thinking everything now is bland when it’s just…real. 

Third, send postcards to your past, but build a house in your present! Make space for new memories. The present is quietly becoming nostalgic, too. In ten years, you might miss the chaos of today, the people who are currently annoying you, the version of yourself that’s just trying to make sense of it all. 

And finally, stay in touch if you can.  Some relationships are meant to stay in the past, yes. But some are simply waiting for a “Hey, remember this?” message. Nostalgia can be a bridge if we let it. 

So here’s to the lost hours, missed calls, floppy disks, shared lunches, mixtapes, and that one laugh that still echoes somewhere inside. Nostalgia doesn’t mean we’re stuck. It means we lived. And that’s kind of beautiful. 

But now, make new memories. Your future self is counting on them.