I miss being unreachable, even though I spent most of that time hoping somebody would call.
I miss burned CDs labeled in permanent marker and photographs you could not inspect until they were developed. I miss not knowing what everyone was doing every second of the day. Nostalgia edits out the boredom, though. It cuts around the waiting and keeps only the warm color grade.
The old days were not better because everything was perfect. They feel better because I already know how they end.
I don’t want to go backward. I want to bring a little mystery forward.
So I’m leaving my phone in the other room. I’m printing pictures. I’m making a playlist in an order that matters. Maybe what I miss is not the decade. Maybe it is the attention I used to give a single moment.