I found myself wandering down Memory Lane the other night, headed to Woe-be-Gone, that little corner of the mind that harbors yesterday.What got me on the Lane is rather strange. I got to musing about my childhood, nothing in particularly mind you, just some errant thought, and it occurred to me that the Germans probably have a word for nostalgic gymnastics and then I thought, we need one here, in America, a word that signifies that faint, warm memory of some past event that can never be.
"Like lunch boxes." I thought to myself.
Man I loved that lunch box. Everyday is was the same food. A thermos of some apple juice, a peanut butter and jelly (apple, the true jelly) sandwich in a clear sandwich bag, with the long fold tucked i; a bag of Taco Doritos (there were only two types of Doritos in those days, taco and regular) also tucked in a bag and some type of brownie or cupcake or whatever mom put in there for dessert. I remember the weight of it. It was solid too. It felt like you had something, something to hold on to. Opening the lunch box was pure gold. The lid, tight and snug gave way with a simple pull, revealing the tightly back case of order and calm. Everything was there.
That lunch box was gold.
Interestingly I can't remember what designs I had on my lunch boxes. Was it Green Lantern? Surely it was Tarzan. Maybe Scooby doo, or Speed Racer. I can't actually remember. I don't even remember the thermos. Scraping my brain for some vestige of a thought, lost in the jumbled tumble of could-of-beens and did-happens yields nothing but the faint memory of the sound of the lunch box opening.
We definitely need a word for this feeling. Maybe Fillineous: a nostalgic feeling of some simple thing that is lost but remembered fondly; a traveled road whose location is lost.










