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As I get older, I find myself becoming more nostalgic and more sentimental every day. Looking back on my childhood and thinking of old friends and family members who have passed away seems to crop up a lot more now, at 45 years old, than it did at say, 25 years old.

I find myself longing for food from my childhood. Rice pudding with raisins made by my dear, sweet Grandmother's hands. Or those salty mashed potatoes my Mom used to make, at least three times a week, to please my finicky Dad. A cool day will produce memories of my Mom's awesome chicken soup. On a hot afternoon my thoughts might turn to my Aunt Lucille's Beet Salad.

Sometimes, a song will bring back the old days. Just one note from a Johnny Cash song will bring back my Dad in all his glory, sitting on the couch, singing along to Ring of Fire. Or a Donna Summer song will make me long to see my sisters. And any time the songs A Little Bit of Soul or Wooly Bully, come on the radio, I think of my oldest brother and it makes me want to call him and ask him to do that funky little dance he used to do those songs.

I saved many books from my childhood and if I'm reallly in a mood for a time travel trip, I'll pick up an old Judy Blume or Norma Klein novel and read myself back thirty years into the past. I have vivid memories of where I was when I read certain novels by these authors. The heat of August on my back while I sat in the front yard reading, Are You There God, It's me, Margaret? still shows up when I pick that book up.

When I see my small son's friends at the bus stop, playing a wild game of tag, I can't help but think of the boys across the street who taught me how to toss a baseball and what to do about a bloody nose gotten when you missed said baseball. And the little girls' patent leather shoes at the bus stop bring back memories of my oldest daughter's first dress up shoes.

TVLand is a nostalgic time travel trip, too. I climb in bed with a big cup of Ovaltine and flip on Andy Griffith and I can't help remember those Sunday nights when we'd all gather in what we called the playroom when I was growing up. And my Dad would make us grilled cheese in the fireplace using these odd metal gadgets I've never seen since then.

I haven't been back home in a quite some time. We've moved many times in the last twenty years and I always say, "You can take the girl out of New York, but you can't the New York out of the girl." I tell myself I'd love to go home but the fact is, what I'm looking for is no longer there. All those nostalgic memories are the only thing that's left. Those times no longer exist but it's good to be able to remember, look back and smile with a few bittersweet tears.

Learn more about this author, Kat Apf.
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