I am struck, up here, by how time is collapsed into place. To drive by both my high school and my college in the same afternoon within an hour. To drive by roads I remember driving down with my grandmother when I was a little girl. Getting from here to there in Vermont is by automobile and through most of these intersections and down most of these roads, my memories are of multiple versions of myself, all layered one upon the other like those cellophane inserts in old science textbooks that broke an organism or a machine into layers.
Times are when you would rather leave some aspects of yourself behind.