There probably isn't an adequate way of getting across how and why seeing a single strand of hair melded to the bar of soap in my shower this afternoon made my heart leap, just as there's likely no way of conveying the bliss/loss combo I felt while holding my sheets to my nose (like the oversize bunch of flowers they so clearly are not) and breathing deeply before tossing them into the washer.

Whatever I might think of the power of language, and the extent of my normal ability to harness it, the truth is that sometimes I just come up blank. Sometimes I just trip across moments that defy words; there's too much behind them, too much in them, possibly even too much ahead of them to whittle down into the code of English. So I do what I can with them, and entrust them to the part of my brain that relies only on image, on scent, on sensation, and hope those moments--and everything they stand for--just stay put for a while.