When I was a teenager, I had five foot tall posters of the rock bands Kiss, Queen, and Peter Frampton on my bedroom walls. They were like alters to me. I loved those bands. After I saw each of the bands in concert, I would tape the ticket stub to the poster.
The posters stayed up until the end of my second year in college. I’d quit school and got a place of my own. Before I moved out I tossed the posters. They didn’t mean anything to me anymore.
Years went by. And then about a month ago I suddenly missed those posters. I felt an aching for them. I went on eBay and found the Queen poster. It was $125. I had the urge to buy it but held off. I was surprised at this experience.
When I took a closer look, I realized it wasn’t the posters I missed. It was the feeling that I associated with the time when they truly mattered to me. That was a magical time when I discovered music that meant something to me. Those bands weren’t my parents music. They were mine.
What helped is the realization that this feeling is still alive in me today. I love music. I listen to a lot of the music that I love. And I make my own music daily and I enjoy singing my songs.