It’s hard to let go of the story I tell myself and have soaked in for so long that it feels like it is what every fiber and atom is made of. But what happened happened and it lays behind me powerless and done unless I turn back, and like Lot’s wife, am turned to a pillar of salt. It calls to me and tries to keep its grip by telling me what to look for on the road that does not exist yet: The future. The past is past and there it must remain if there is to be any hope for tomorrow at all.
