FEATURE party, a family vacation, or a school field trip—moments in
fall sick, or to take a shower without having to wear flip flops
Tell me a secret, I say.
my life that are long gone. In theory, I could seek the same
once in a while. And with each visit home, my attachment to
The room is too dark to see each other’s faces, but I
comfort by thinking about the wonderful things about my
my childhood grows stronger.
can see M’s silhouette. You already know everything, he
life in the present, but the feelings that ensue from nostalgia
For most, these warm, cozy moments are reserved for
cannot be replicated. They are tender and uplifting, and yet
school breaks, and the desire to feel like a kid again diminishes
I have never had a brother, but this is what I think it
they evoke an unavoidable twinge of heartache.
as time passes. I deem it a privilege to have the ability to see
must be like on the best of days: the two of us, cocooned.
The immense strength of these nostalgic feelings has
my parents and revel in these comforts several times per
The knowledge that, no matter what he says, I would still
always been recognized. Centuries ago, this wistful longing for
semester. But there is a growing part of me that wonders
do just about anything for him.
the past was viewed as a type of paranoia, leading physicians
if I need to challenge my fondness for the passenger seat.
M tells me his secret. His breath is warm against my
to classify nostalgia as a disease that needed to be cured.
Sometimes, it’s a mental tug-of-war: there shouldn’t be a rush
ear. When he speaks, I feel him tilt his chin down, as if in
Symptoms included melancholy, loss of appetite, or even
to grow up and have more autonomy, but I also shouldn’t let
prayer.
hallucinations of past memories. Nostalgia “outbreaks” often
myself be so coddled at 19 years old. I question if my proximity
occurred in soldiers, and the powerful desire for the comfort
and frequent visits to home deprive me of the growth that is
of their families often got them sent home.
supposed to occur at this point in my life.
While the modern understanding isn’t as extreme,
My friends often express their jealousy of my closeness
nostalgia is nonetheless a deeply emotional influence.
to home. It’s something I am so grateful for, yet I see how
Nostalgia is most strongly evoked through the senses—
independent they are and can’t help but admire it. They solve
listening to a playlist of throwbacks, smelling a favorite
their own problems without making a quick call home and
childhood meal, walking past the playground where recess
getting picked up, and so much of their growth seems tied to
used to be. The sensory experiences that trigger particular
the command they have over their own lives. I’m uncertain if
memories stimulate areas of the brain associated with
it’s something that I would even be capable of.
says, but both of us know that’s not true.
—— Secrets are a certain prayer. Burning silently like votive candles along an altar. Secrets are sacred. To keep one is a type of worship. To speak one is to speak in tongues. I collect them like alms, cradled in cupped hands. I hold them up to your face. A suppliant position. —— Tell me a secret, I say, and here are the things they offer: Fake boyfriends. Fake orgasms. Fear of the night
rewards and emotions. This is particularly notable with
I’ve discovered a lot about myself while venturing down
sky, but only when the sky is clear. Fear of God. Fear of
memories evoked by smells, as smells are processed in the
memory lane, and I think the destination it has led me to is
their father. The last toilet they took a shit in. The last
olfactory bulb, which has direct connections to the amygdala,
one of balance: challenging myself to solve my own problems,
person they talked shit about. Crushes on classmates.
the emotional processing region of the brain, and the
but also letting myself take advantage of this time I have close
Crushes on friends. Crushes on professors. The time
hippocampus, the memory processing region. The reason
to home every once in a while. I hope to reach a point where
the cops chased them through a park. The time the cops
nostalgia feels so strong is precisely because of this immediate
I can feel nostalgic for childhood and responsibility’s absence,
chased them out of a parking lot. The time they pissed
pathway between senses and emotions. Attachment to our
without feeling envious of that time anymore. Having agency
on the bathroom floor. The time they kissed a stranger
past is a fundamental part of human nature, and our anatomy
over my life is something I intend to look forward to, rather
in a bathroom stall. A plan to die by the age of forty-five.
reflects this.
than trembling at the thought of. I’m certain that I will get
Their virginity, or recent lack thereof. Recent break-ups.
there eventually, but for now I am going to cherish going home
Recent hook-ups. Recent deaths in their family, how
… Recently, I’ve been thinking about the more poignant
to my mom’s home-cooked meals, or watching Jeopardy! in
sudden it was. How that window got broken. How their
feelings nostalgia brings about. While most college students
the living room with my dad. I’m sure that, someday, I will
uncle got away with that affair. How they only do things
probably wouldn’t trade their independence for anything, I
long for this time back, too.
to please other people. How they never got over their
would be more than willing to surrender the freedoms that
Secrets
accompany adulthood to be a kid again. I cherished the lack of responsibility that enabled the worry-free cheerfulness of
multiply as time progresses. My romanticization of the past stems from the fact that
—— And what are secrets if not aloneness? A vow you
an interrogation
make to yourself. An invisible shield. To identify the
by Emily Tom Illustrated by Grace Pinsonault
To hide something, you must first hide the fact that
my childhood. It’s distressing to think that that untroubled time is long gone and my obligations and duties will inevitably
first love. How they don’t know how to be alone.
my present is still filled with much of the ease that I associate
parts of yourself you hope no one sees. To make it so. something has been hidden. Bury the object and burn the map.
with my childhood. As the youngest sibling and youngest of
Here the stars are bright and begging, like pennies at
my cousins, I have always been fervently taken care of by my
the bottom of a well. Here the trees are green, even in the
The room, warm as a womb. Even as sleet peppers
family. Naturally, I grew accustomed to this sense of security.
heart of winter, for here the winter does not exist. Here
the sidewalk outside. Here is the wonton soup,
Heading off to college is the time where most “babies” of the
I feel hidden, tucked away into a pocket of the night. We
homemade. Here are the people to share it with. And a
family evolve into more independent spirits. In my case, my
are so far from the city, from the lights, from the highway.
softness, hovering, like a feather in the sun.
dream university was a quick 20 minute drive from home, in a
It is the first time I have been somewhere so empty.
city where both of my parents worked.
Outside, the roots rustle. Wild chickens scratch
——
Tell me a secret, I say. T crosses his legs. What kind of secret?
While I certainly have more independence living in
at dead leaves. They have been doing this all night. The
Any kind, I say. As long as you’re comfortable.
Providence than I did in my microscopic Rhode Island
first time they did, the sound startled us so much that
Around us, the others continue talking. T pulls out
town, I’m unsure that I am truly independent, as the sense
we reached for each other. But now we are used to it, the
his phone and types up a paragraph. He passes the phone
of security from my family has yet to fade away. It’s always
same way we are used to sharing a bed, laying side-by-
to me under the table. Reading it is like swallowing ice.
been comforting to be able to go home for a family dinner if
side like two halves of an equals sign. We lie there like
When I turn to look at T, he is talking to someone else.
I’m not excited by dining hall options, to rest in a big bed if I
little kids, giggling.
I pass his phone back to him. Are you okay? I ask.
Ways to Beat the Heat 1. Cuddle with a 900 year old vampire 2. Drink propylene glycol 3. Listen to Arctic Monkeys 4. Do icebreakers (or don’t) 5. Skate on thin ice 6. Take your clothes off ;) 7. Fight fire with fire (beat the heat)
“There are days that I really wish I had a dick. I want to put it in orbeez.” “Do you think Alvin and the Chipmunks were based on the Three Wise Men?”
8. Shiver me timbers 9. Seek affection from your situationship 10. Shade April 14, 2023
3