And yet, as the world changes, I am neither stuck in time nor rushing to catch the first wagon. I prefer to stand with one foot forward and the other lingering behind. In that spread, in that gradient, there is a kind of depth—holding context from what was while venturing into what is becoming. It brings with it discomfort, the ache of missing what once was, but that is simply the cost of change.

Remembering is how we soften that cost, how we keep the past alive even as we move forward.