Nostalgia’s Sleepy Hollow
The heart wrenching memories that get stirred when visiting a familiar place
Photographed and Digitally Altered by Carla Monroy
A moment to center myself. A moment of reflection. The silence is sobering.
Spending time with my family, the childhood one—reminds me how much making food is a love language.
The words my mother speaks sometimes sting.
Yet her redemption, or maybe my forgiveness, lies in the food that she makes. We spend hours—fighting,
disputing, disagreeing.
Yet, when she knows we’re coming home, she makes the extra effort to wash the produce and handle it with care.
Stirring the pot.
The room fills with the smokey scent of roasting bell peppers.
“Those are my favorite!”
My entitled sister says.
Those are for you, I say.
She’s preparing it for you,
it’s the way she shows love.
Photographed and Digitally Altered by Carla Monroy
Watching nieces grow up, reminds us of us. The way we played when we were kids. I got a text from my sister of a sleep memory.
She said, “The girls begged me to play in the Camry. They are taking turns “driving” and sitting in the passenger seat. I’m sitting in the back seat monitoring…
It reminds me of how we used to play in my dad’s old care that was parked in the garage.”
Nostalgia.
She says, “And it’s also like a flash forward into the future.”
Someday, they will drive off together into the sunset, leaving us in the dust.
Floating.
Floating.
Floating.
Us.
Trying to catch a glimpse of their beauty.
A peek at them,
once we’re gone.
© 2026 Carla Monroy
