I have returned from vacation. I am a little tanner in the way that I become, which is to say not much. I have returned, a little bit rested, which is to say that I am rested from not thinking much about this life that I lead in this place, and exhausted from intensely being someplace else.
I have returned from the land of water and cold and hot and family -- a place that is written within me in ways I'm still discovering, and in ways that amaze me. How can I remember such intricate details of my past simply by driving on a road, hearing a bottle-rocket, seeing a fawn, stepping over mud, peeing in the woods?