dangers of nostalgia

I sit down to do a little work. I plan on catching up on emails, writing a few belated thank you cards, paying late bills. One stray thought derails that: Where was I one year ago? What was I doing, what was I hoping for, what was I afraid of?

I was searching for a vintage suitcase. I was mapping our road trip route. I was packing and repacking. I was sweating profusely in a tent. I was worrying that one of my brothers would be one of the three people who fall into the Grand Canyon every year. I was wearing a head net. I was wanting the trip to last forever, and in the next breath I was wishing it was over already. I was scared to move. I was excited to move.

And a year has already passed. How is that possible?
It went by so fast I think as I scroll back through iPhoto, my bills unpaid, my thank you cards unwritten.

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