gold keys jingling in a tattered pocket.

I was thinking yesterday about how important the past becomes as you grow older. Photo albums and picture frames and old pieces of paper and ticket stubs seem like parts of yourself. As the days drift off into nothing, I can't help but cling onto these symbols harder than before.

It's strange, however, how these things no longer make me sad or angry at how quickly the good times faded. I look at my little souvenirs and I can appreciate that I still have pieces of how things once were.

I'm not about to say that I am happier now than I ever have been, but I am happy in general right now. And just having these pieces of my old life here to remind me of what happiness even is keeps me believing that I am capable of feeling that distilled joy once again. Maybe in a different place. Maybe at a different time. Maybe with different people. But at least I am starting to see that it's possible.