I’m lacking in words. Nothing I conjure up can properly paint out the feeling I have deep within my soul. Emotions that I once knew, but lost touch with somewhere along the journeys of life, have found their way back into my skin. The air around me feels fresher, the nights seem cooler and the world, my world, has this shy grin slowly creeping across its face. Happy clouds tinged with boundless promise have spread their creamy existence across the skies, one that looks clearer than ever. And as I gaze at the heavens, I can’t help but pause with nostalgic adoration at how wonderful this moment in my life feels.
Its the kind of feeling you get when a heavenly voice graces your aural senses, something like Susan Boyle’s first performance of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’. Or maybe the feeling you get when you experience fun you never thought you could. Or when you’re caught up in the rain, yet you don’t want to run from its shower. Because every raindrop that falls onto your face feels like a kiss from the skies. As the whiff of freshly rained-on earth skates through the chilly atmosphere, you’re taken on a nostalgic voyage. Your spine emits a certain warmth that eats through all the cold you are currently exposed to, leaving your senses mesmerised at how beautiful a feeling it is to just let loose and bathe in the simplicity of life’s joys.
You think about all the beautiful things that have happened in your life. Those of the past, and some from the present. Memories of the laughter from your care-free childhood echo through your brain. Your mind is a whirlpool of images, as you reminisce over the days when you ran about in wild joy each time the rain caught you out playing. When puddles of water were fields of play that had no bounds, and you splashed about without regard. When a bruise to the knee was just another daily occurrence, one that didn’t need any doctor’s report for you to be allowed to miss school. Unlike today, when a day-off from work needs the right documents from the right medical sources.
Nonetheless, the tender longing for your past is one heck of an emotional rollercoaster. Heart wrenching even. I’m trying hard not to let go of my sanity, or ruin my current state of happiness. For the past eight hours, I have successfully avoided thinking about the worries that blot our every day life, and still am counting. I have fully embraced this feel-good sensation that has swept over my afflicted being. The endorphins swarming through my brains chambers have given a classically new meaning to the word rejuvenated, for the variety of happy I feel has an absolutely different taste to it.
Now may be a good time to note that my untimely sense of euphoria has been brought about by the thoughts of how memorable my childhood days were. How enjoyable playtime was, and the timeless hours I spent watching T.V. throughout my younger days. Cartoons were by far my best, for they are the sole reason my urge to hold a pencil and bring lines into artistic life ever grew. Every time I watched them, I felt a sense of relief from the tiresome days at school, and the (stupid) homework that we were burdened with back then. Evening cartoons had me insisting on four-o’clock tea, just so I could delay my time to do homework, on the merit of two-dimensional comic-relief. Don’t get me started at how engrossed I was on the black box with moving pictures each Saturday morning, because we all know what fun that was.
Try and try as I have, I have not for the life of me found the perfect similes or metaphors to make my story curve. I find no means of describing this nostalgia that has brightened up my day. My entire morning has been but a bootless journey into a vault of words, shapes and colour. The harder I struggle to describe the feeling in me right now, the tougher it gets. So I raise the all white flag, and concede that these sensations running through me fit no description. I can only recount the experience as it is on the surface, and nothing about the odyssey it has taken me on.
Enough with my words on how emotive this mid-day excursion has been. I have wasted your time stringing you along this headless story of mine. Wandering about in mindless circles as I thought back on the days when cartoons were funny, childish and enjoyable. Long before all this non-humorous, scientific bull on T.V. these days ever existed, or adrenaline-filled teenage mutants were ever born. When cartoons had characters that made no sense whatsoever, and some didn’t have a single word uttered throughout the screening, yet still had your ribs cracking with laughter. Those were the days when cartoons really and truly were – cartoons.
So, I now pass on a montage of reasons as to why Saturday mornings will never be the same again. You be the judge, but don’t you dare cry on me.