Nostalgia

I want to feel that again. That feeling I have when I travel in our old car, late at night, with my dad driving, his bald head shining with the light of occasional passing lights. That feeling of looking out the window and seeing only shades of black and yellow lights buzz past me in a blur. That feeling at the pit of my stomach as the car turns around and speeds down a bridge. That feeling that the world is so big. As though, all of the universe might actually be tinier than the present, tinier than the stretch of land I'm looking at right now. A path so endless and unfathomable that the stars seem to be islands and the roads seem to be rivers of tar and broken signboards.

Because now I just open my phone and check where I am. Pin myself to the stretch of land so I know I'm not lost in the sea of concrete and asbestos. I inherently know I'm not lost here, and the feeling of being a tiny sailor in a vast ocean of land never comes to me. But I so badly wish I was a child again and the world to be the biggest wonder I've ever seen.