It’s funny how nostalgia can paint the past in golden hues, as if it were a place of endless wonder, free from the stress and responsibility that colors our present lives. Like so many others, I find myself saying how much I miss the way things used to be—the simple joy of holidays like Halloween and Christmas, when everything felt magical and effortless. Back then, it wasn’t about work or deadlines or trying to be “enough.” It was about being there, fully present, in the moments that mattered.
But I wonder: did those moments feel special because they were simpler—or because we were?
When we were younger, we didn’t worry about the future or the past. We weren’t consumed with questions about what comes next or whether we were doing enough to prepare for it. Our focus was entirely on the present. Halloween wasn’t just a chance to dress up and collect candy; it was an adventure. Christmas wasn’t about juggling schedules, using the break to get ahead of work, or achieving society’s standard of productivity; it was a season that seemed to last forever, filled with lights, laughter, or family and friend bonding time.
Now, the holidays can feel like items on a to-do list. Decorating, shopping, studying for midterms, finishing college applications—it’s all about what needs to be done, not what is happening. And yet, I can’t help but feel a little twinge of guilt when I catch myself saying, “Things aren’t the same anymore.” Have they changed? Or have I?
The truth is, I think both are true. We’ve grown up, and the world around us has shifted, too. But the magic of those moments from our past wasn’t in their perfection—it was in our ability to live fully in them. Back then, we didn’t compare every experience to some unattainable ideal. We weren’t trying to recreate what we had; we were just enjoying what we were given.
I think we glamorize the past because it feels safe. The future, on the other hand, is uncertain. It demands effort, planning, and sacrifice. But maybe the trick to finding the balance lies in how we treat the present. After all, when we were little, the present was everything. What if we let it be that way again?
Maybe the holidays don’t feel the same because I’m too busy trying to recapture something that’s already passed. Instead of mourning what’s gone, what if I embraced what’s here? The late nights of laughter with friends, the twinkling lights that make the early sunsets a little brighter, the chance to sit down and talk about what truly matters. These moments won’t last forever, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t enough. After all, we only live once.
The past will always have its charm, and the future will always hold its promise. But I’m starting to think the best gift I can give myself this season is the present—the only time I have to make memories that, someday, I might look back on and miss.