Member-only story
Nostalgia Post-Covid
On memory and trauma from literary studies
My nine-year old daughter Dione just told me today, “You know what I’m feeling nostalgic for?” Nostalgia is a big word she’s been learning about lately. “I’m feeling nostalgic for construction sounds. For the sounds of heavy traffic in the morning going to school. For that irritating music at the mall. For the smell inside the plane, the salty noodles in a cup, or when we eat at the airport before boarding.”
Where we live, children have been locked down for a year already. They’re absolutely not allowed on the roads. In our condominium compound where several residents are home-quarantined, children are not even allowed to roam in the hallways.
My son Joaquin is about to celebrate his second birthday, like his first birthday, under lockdown. With children banned from taking public transport, we’re lucky to have a car for buckling him up once in a while for an exposure trip. “Joaquin,” we would tell him, “that’s called a traffic light. Those are trees.” Imagine how he watches the outside world from the car window as though it were a movie. A flatly visual experience, devoid of the noise and smells, the changing textures of air, that Dione was feeling nostalgic for.
