Remembering days past

Now that I haven't written here in a long time, and no one reads this, I'm free to write whatever I want.

On quiet evenings sitting at home, often after a few glasses of wine or beer, I find myself thinking about my days as a single man.  I think about my university days of when I would stay up until 4am writing papers and smoking cigarettes in a fur coat outside.  I think about living in Paris and wandering the streets with nowhere to go and nowhere to be.

Just 5 minutes ago I thought of a very specific memory.  May 2005, 10 years ago, I was living in Calgary in my first house away from "home" so to speak.  It turned out to be one of the best summer's of my life, maybe the best.  No responsibility, I managed to find a job that paid me good money for little work, I just hung out with my friends and enjoyed life.  One particular day we managed to get some magic mushrooms and my friends were coming over later that day.  I remember with such vivid clarity coming back from the grocery store with a watermelon and other food to eat, and being so excited.  We spent the day in the park, talking, laughing, and connecting.  

The more I think about the past, the more I feel anxious.  I feel my stomach rise to my throat.  All those experience are just gone, only memories now.  The utter freedom of waking up and not knowing what was going to happen that day, that will likely never return.  And that's the clincher, even if I left everything now, I couldn't return if I wanted to.  

So I get older.  Slightly fatter every day as I can't exercise due to a bad back.  I entertain myself with hobbies.  I wonder if other people feel this way.