Nostalgia

Nostalgia is this:
It's slouching in a chair at around midnight trying to relieve a severe case of writer's block (without much avail), when a dusty black case catches your eye. Nostalgia is half knowing what's inside and half frantically pulling the case out of the clutches of cobwebs, boxes, and furniture. It's opening the case and finding a long and lanky brass instrument that is both familiar and foreign. Nostalgia is putting the instrument together as if you'd known it for years but running your eyes up and down it as if you were seeing it for the very first time. Tilting your head in child-like wonder, you smile as if greeting an old friend, and you are unaware that your fingers have already fallen into the proper place. Nostalgia is giddily scouring the guest room for sheet music only to find yourself blowing dust off black and white keys, and when you've finally found some music, you laugh to yourself and realize that you still recognize the notes even though you can only read the bass clef. It's being unable to discern what is new and what is old for they've collided in beautiful clash of sounds, happiness, and a loss for words. Nostalgia is rediscovering music and all the young awe and fascination that first came with it and still remains.