I assume there are places we hold in our mind’s eye, in our heart’s adoration, for as long as our life will allow. Whether from the remarkable beauty of that place, or the repetition of our return to a certain view again and again, places imprint on us. Instead of newness and beginner’s mind, we sense again: age, perspective, maybe even wisdom, from the known and familiar. We return to our childhood in a blink, layer over it our youth and adulthood, and add on all the different moments at that rock, and all the people that stood there with us. This palimpsest makes a beautiful place all the more incredible.

And so as we continue on to the next vista, we are always called back by the siren of memory.