There is something inherently nostalgic about weekends, especially those
mornings afternoons after a night out when you wake up to the smell of cigarettes and the soft sound of rain outside your window; you slowly make your way to the bathroom to find your mascara-tainted eyes and smudged lipstick looking back. And with a knowing smile and the certainty of not having to do anything at all, lounge back to bed.
You could say this weekend routine has been taking place since our teenage years. My girls and I (and every other person in this planet) have thousands of stories to tell, not only those that happen after it gets dark but millions of situations, conversations, memories… mementos that make our friendships and our lives. And for some twisted reason, I tend to wallow in these thoughts on the weekends; I also let my mind follow a familiar path to the corners of my brain where I keep the people I am missing, those who are miles and miles away, those who are down the road, those who are gone. Because as Peyton Sawyer draws, people always leave.
But what she doesn’t draw is that they also come back. We always come back and the beauty of a comeback is underrated.
If we overlook the exaltation of hormones, feelings and unrealistic drama in general that surround One Tree Hill, we find a small amount of beautiful things including Sawyer’s drawings. Still overly dark and dramatic to some, they mirror feelings we have all experienced at some point, and not necessarily during our teenage years. Nostalgia is ageless and universal.