Souvenirs

Every now and then something reminds me of a chunk of my life I'd forgotten, and it's as though a peice of me was lost and is found--for a while. There was a Delta-88 the same color as the N'th hand one we graduated to when we first had to drive 7 around. I didn't want it (they make cars better now), but I wanted ... maybe the best way to describe it is that I wanted my participation in it again; I wanted that part of me and my history that was gone.

The souvenir helps put you back together, in a sense.

Not completely: my memory isn't complete even when I'm reminded. In God's economy the past isn't past or lost; maybe I need to trust that more. But I want to be back together again.