prelapsarian (pree-lap-SAYR-ee-uhn) adjective
Relating to any innocent or carefree period in the past.
[From Latin pre- (before) + lapsus (fall). The term refers to the period in the Garden of Eden before Adam and Eve lost their innocence.]
Once again, this word comes from "Oldfriend," who, as her name would suggest, is indeed an friend of mine from back in the day and a woman of grace, intelligence, great good humor, lusty appetite, and firm embouchre.
She is also a vocabularyophile, like your humble author.
"Prelapsarian" is a lovely word, it conjures up so many days gone by when life was an open book, a journey just started, an adventure where anything at all was possible and we were all firm, ripe, and wrinkle-free. Ah, youth.
Brief glimpses into the prelapsarian period for Oldfriend and I would include the following:
- Purple and gold uniforms with Kaiser helmets
- Stairwell parties
- Doctor Ben
- Horn rolling
- P House
- A certain blond cellist and a certain red-headed guitarist in the house with no insulation
- "Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me" (and oh, you naughty peeps, it's not like it sounds)
- The same flowered dress and brown leather sandals
- "Are y'all sisters?"
- The baked potato bar at D-hall
- Eggplant casserole
- That naughty package Chris left us on the front door of the townhouse
- Many many many late nights at Wampler in adjacent practice rooms
- Bus trips, and drunkness, and the "wasted badly" sign of shame.
I could go on, but I think y'all get the idea. Prelapsarian days are golden, nearly carefree, unhinged, and free form. They are the days in which we mould ourselves into the people we eventually become, once we grow into responsibility and 'real life.'
For some of us, the prelapsarian days are longer than others. Some of us abandon them early in search of stability/job/love/family, some of are forced from them through emergency/war/death/stress, some lucky few run away to their own personal circus and never come back.
It would be wise of us all hold them close, refreshing them from time to time with a trip down memory lane or to a physical reunion in order to not forget what it was like, living in our little Gardens of Eden. After all, who we were before we are who we are now is still important, at least as important as who we are now that we are who we are.
(I DARE you to tell me that last sentence doesn't make sense.)
What are some of YOUR fondest prelapsarian memories?