ROSY NOSTALGIA

It seems so easy to look back fondly, especially because the last days are usually the best. In college the last few weeks before finals were crammed full of late nights and mini-adventures. We were fulfilling all those “we should have a pillow fight in the middle of campus” or “let’s go out for doughnuts at 3 am” before the semester was over. Those are the days and nights I remember. I am in my senior year of Peace Corps, only 3 months left, and I know these are the days to be remembered fondly. I know myself. I’ll fall easily into nostalgia. I’ll recall that time I hiked through rural Lesotho with two girl friends and how we hitched a ride in the back of a bread truck. I’ll forget that I got bed bugs and itched heinously for a week afterward. I’ll remember my garden and the bumper crop of eggplant and how extra creativity was employed with purple squash dishes. I’ll forget about how the students stole my prize watermelon and snuck away with my tomatoes. I’ll forget how I cried myself to sleep on lonely nights or how obnoxious it was having kids ask me for money everyday.
I’m okay with nostalgia. I like to remember the good things. I may view the past with rose-colored glasses but I know that these hard times are woven into my fabric. Even though when recalling stories I’ll go glassy eyed and stare into the Peace Corps “good old days” the tough lessons have become hard wired. In twenty years I may recall Lesotho as a peaceful African country where I met the love of my life, taught agriculture, experienced the environment and made lifelong friends. However, the poverty, the hard questions, the sweat, the tears, and occasional blood are changing me. I can’t see it yet, but I know they’re there, let’s hope that when I look back the changes from experiencing adversity are ones that are truly good and not just made sentimentally peachy.