Photographs and letters spilled out from its depths. The first to catch my eye was a postcard. From Alexis. I would have recognized her handwriting an...where. The old sensation rose in my throat, the same that comes whenever I think of her. I read it and never have before, though it was addressed to me. She signed it, "with love."There were photographs of us. Polaroid. Developed. Digital prints. One at Lake Michigan. Another in Calgary. Places I could recognize only from the tourist signs in the. “The night here lasts for six months”.In the words of Lou Holtz:Life doesn’t have to be complicated. There are seven colors of the rainbow, and see what Michelangelo did with those seven colors. There are seven notes, and see what Beethoven did with those seven notes. There are ten numbers, and see what Bernie Madoff did with those ten numbers.There’s a hospital in San Francisco that specializes in transplants. So some people who have had transplants can honestly say, I left my heart in San. More

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