What Are You Actually Missing?

You suddenly crave a meal from a restaurant you haven’t visited in years. You think about an old apartment, a city, a friendship, or a summer that, at the time, probably felt completely ordinary. The obvious conclusion is: I miss that. But nostalgia may be less precise than we think. Sometimes the thing we miss is simply the landmark our mind has chosen for an entire period of life. You may not miss the apartment; you may miss being 26 in that apartment—getting dressed on the floor, having friends five minutes away, and not yet knowing how the next few years would unfold. You may not miss the relationship; you may miss having someone to text when something insignificant happened. You may not even miss the place; you may miss the rituals you had there.

This distinction matters because nostalgia can make the past feel like a destination. If we could just return to the restaurant, the person, or the neighborhood, perhaps we could retrieve the feeling too. Usually, we can’t. But we can ask a better question. Instead of asking, What do I miss? ask, What existed in my life then that I’m craving now? Maybe it was spontaneity, community, slowness, being desired, having less responsibility, feeling hopeful, or simply having somewhere you belonged. The past may not be asking you to return to it. It might be showing you what your present life needs more of.

What existed in your life then that you might be needing now?