Nostalgia is a harsh mistress. The rhythm of her dance weaves between your heart strings, tangling itself inextricably if you let it. Her veils waft over the pain, the heartache, the loneliness. The bright light of remembrance gleams off children’s smiles, full moons over the ocean, family gatherings full of laughter. Fears are masked with bright Mardi Gras masks, gilded and bedecked with grand peacock feathers.
Beware. Nostalgia is a harsh mistress.