Loss scares me. I hate growing attached to people, places, because I know inevitably, I will lose them - and in one sense, that loss will be forever. What leaves us, often does not return, and even if it does return, it's never the same. We are left with only with the memory. What was is what was and can never be again.

Once in a while, though, that loss is not entirely permanent. Sometimes, if we let go despite our attachments, the wild and unpredictable return to us. We find ourselves in the same places, with the same people. But the circumstances have changed - we have changed. The attachment can't be recreated, but in some cases we can move forward and grow together. In other cases, we can only cling to that memory of the attachment as it was, and let it die gracefully. A new chapter does not begin, and the book closes forever.

Sometimes I like that things come full circle, that we, in ways, occasionally regain what we have lost.

Sometimes I wish that what is lost, like a pail and shovel caught in the surf, is lost forever.