I read something today that said, “Do not focus on the past. Just live in the moment and do not worry about the future.” I get the idea, but I flat out do not agree with it.
All of our memories live in the past. That is where our parents and grandparents are. That is where the people we ran around with as kids still laugh and joke in our minds: the ballgames, the Dairy Dip runs, the old trucks, the holidays at Mom’s house, the late night talks on the porch, the ones we loved and lost. I think about riding in the back of Grandpa’s truck with Donna and Karen, sitting on the tailgate and looking back down those Todd County roads. I think about cutting tobacco, old tractors in the field, and long summer evenings when the only thing on our mind was where we were going after the sun went down. If I am not supposed to think about the past, then I am supposed to forget all of that. No way.
The past is not perfect, but it is ours. It is made up of the good times that still make us smile and the hard times that taught us something. It is where we learned how to love, how to work, how to hurt, and how to get back up again. It is where the voices of the ones who are gone still talk to us. That is not something you just shut off because a quote on the internet said to stay in the moment.
Do I think we should make plans and try to do better with whatever time we have left? Sure. But there are no guarantees for tomorrow, and that is exactly why the past means so much. Those moments are gone, but they still live in our hearts and in our stories.
So if you catch me talking about “back when,” it is not because I am stuck there. It is because that is where my people are. That is where my memories are. And I am not about to pretend they do not matter.