Nostalgia

Honey For the Heart - 14

A Drizzle of Raw Honey 🍯
Today’s story doesn’t just speak in words…It whispers through a memory.
The past isn’t meant to be carried as baggage. It’s meant to be seen from a distance - smiled at, maybe even waved to… and then released.
When we cling to it too tightly, moments turn into monuments. And memories harden into brick walls.
But when we visit them once in a while — hold them, honour them, and leave them where they belong —
we make room in the heart for what wants to arrive.
What has to arrive.
Now.
And maybe that’s why it’s called the ‘present’
‘Now’ is a gift tied with bows and ribbons, waiting to be unwrapped, just the way we choose.

It was a crisp, quiet afternoon when Pooh and Piglet wandered down a path they hadn’t taken in quite a while. The air smelled of moss and memory.
Leaves crunched softly beneath their feet — like old letters being opened once more. The trees stood taller than they remembered, their bark etched with the quiet handwriting of time.

Suddenly, Piglet paused mid-step. There, caught on a low, oak branch, fluttered a faded scarf- frayed at the edges, its sunny-scarlet now turned dusty, yet holding the smile of a once-bright day.

“Oh,” Piglet whispered, “do you remember this, Pooh? Didn’t you lose it…that windy afternoon we went fishing?”

Pooh tilted his head, a small smile forming.
“Yesss,” he said. “We looked everywhere, didn’t we?”

They stood in silence, watching it sway in the breeze like a memory too fragile to touch.

“It’s strange,” Piglet said softly, “how something lost long ago can suddenly return… and bring back a hundred quiet feelings with it.
Like when a tune carries you back to a moment…
Or a rusted rose falls from an old notebook… and you’re not sure whether to smile or sigh.”

Piglet’s voice dropped.
“Sometimes I miss the ‘me’ I used to be.”

Pooh nodded slowly.
“Me too. But I think our old selves never truly leave. They just stay nearby… softer, like shadows in gentle light.”

They sat beneath the tree, each wrapped in memories- like the scent of first rain rising from the ground and curling all around them.

A breeze stirred the scarf into a small swirl before letting it rest again.

Pooh spoke softly.
“Sometimes the things we thought we’d forgotten… never really leave. They just find quiet corners to wait while we grow.”

Piglet looked down.
“Sometimes I ache for what’s gone. For how things used to be.”

Pooh placed a gentle paw over his.
“That ache means we lived something worth missing. And that’s not weakness, Piglet. That’s heart.”

Piglet blinked.
“So… the ache is love, remembering?”

Pooh nodded.
“Exactly. And maybe it’s not asking us to go back- but to notice what’s beautiful, right now.”

They didn’t take the scarf down.

Some things are best left where they belong- not with a heavy heart, but with quiet grace. 💛