The Pursuit

One bright Sunday morning, I hopped the fence to my old school. I was 32 years old, seeking to rejuvenate my grade school memories. It was part of my quest to find out why my life — especially my love life — wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped.

I thought familiar sensations from my childhood might aid in my recall. I wanted to smell the oily outgassing of the asphalt playground as it softened in the California sun, to rest my shoulders…