Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was... ...Parents aren't the people you come from. They're the people you want to be, when you grow up. I sat between my mother and my father, watching strangers on TV carry in Shaker rockers and dusty paintings and ancient beer tankards and cranberry glass dishes; people and their hidden treasures, who had to be told by experts that they'd taken something incredibly precious for granted.

Prayer is like water - something you can't imagine has the strength or power to do any good, and yet give it time and it can change the lay of the land.

But what if your obsession has nothing to do with drugs or thrills or money? What if what you want most in the world is to recapture the way life was a week, a month, a year ago-and you are willing to do whatever it takes?

How do you walk into someone's life again after twenty-eight years? How do you pick up, when you were too young to know where you left off.

It never failed to amaze me how the most ordinary day could be catapulted into the extraordinary in the blink of an eye.

Eventually, I told myself not to expect anything from him, and as a result it has gotten easier for me to take what comes.

But will you miss me? More importantly - will I miss you? Does either one of us really want to hear the answer to that question?