In December 1986 I assembled a time capsule to hastily insert in an extra concrete pour necessitated by our pool contractor’s incorrectly-placed layout. It seemed that the entrance steps into the sports pool were harrowingly near our home’s sliding door. Wouldn’t want Lar to inadvertently splash into the pool on his way to BBQ our evening’s meal!… ...

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“Let go; Let God!” I breathed in and out as mantra. The phrase infused a lightness of being, a slowed pulse.

“Let go; Let God,” I repeated as the garage door closed. Larry had retrieved his wallet from the closet shelf, where he’d belatedly remembered he’d left it while changing pants and then heading for the airport.… ...

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