I stood at your doorstep, trying to figure out what went wrong

I spent today looking for ghosts. On the side roads, on the highways, on main streets and on the backstreets.

Looking for things that once were.

Or maybe never were.

Our minds too often play tricks with us. Our memories soften events and images, and the technicolor fades into a whitewashed palette of grays.

But for the most important moments, the life-altering events that define us, those remain vibrant.

Even though it was a brilliant spring-like day, with buds blooming everywhere, it still looked colorless to me. Given my history in this place, I was expecting something else, I think.

I used to live at the top of this hill. Things in that neck of the woods have changed a lot, and I guess I have too.

And, to think, this was the road that used to go home.