Even though I try not to, I find myself at times wishing for the “good old days”. Yet I know they were not nearly as good as my memory has enshrined them to be. It’s my mind’s way of coping to embellish the days gone by. Sometimes the ‘bad’ is made bigger in retrospect and the good is grown “larger” by memory. One of the gifts of getting older is a growing ability to let past happiness and joy expand while allowing difficulty and sadness to diminish slowly over time.
Taken from “The New Days” by Edgar Guest
The old days, the old days, how oft the poets sing,
The days of hope at dewy morn, the days of early spring,
The days when every mead was fair, and every heart was true,
And every maiden wore a smile, and every sky was blue
The days when dreams were golden and every night brought rest,
The old, old days of youth and love, the days they say were best.
The new days, the new days, of them I want to sing,
The new days with the fancies and the golden dreams they bring;
The old days had their pleasures, but likewise have the new
The gardens with their roses and the meadows bright with dew;
We love to-day the selfsame way they loved in days of old;
The world is bathed in beauty and it isn’t growing cold;
There’s joy for us a-plenty, there are tasks for us to do,
And life is worth the living, for the friends we know are true.
I am grateful for every day of my life: even the most difficult ones. Each one was filled with twenty-four hours of breath and life that I had the gift of life within. Even at their worst, my days been interesting, instructive and always worth living.
These are the good old days
you’re going to miss in the years ahead.