The Cursive Q

I love that old cursive Q.

I learned it in third grade, 1983. At the time, it was not special. It was simply how the letter was written.

As you get older, you notice how things change. Some changes help. Some do not. The harder realization is that most things fall into neither category.

They do not improve or decay. They drift into obscura.

I am learning that nostalgia is not fondness for the past. It is the instinct to reach back and briefly retrieve something that slipped quietly out of view.

That Q did not disappear because it failed. It simply stopped being carried forward.

Acceptance is understanding the difference.