Many years ago, William explained to me the true meaning of nostalgic, and it didn't seem right when he explained that it's not just happy memories, sentimental thoughts, but an anxiety, an ache, pain. I recalled, this academic summary, the clinical description of deep homesickness, sitting on the bank of this little river, the dappled light streaming through clouds and redwood trees, I felt it, and knew better than ever before what nostalgia is. Extinguished campfires still smoked lightly, and I could smell my abuela's kitchen, the smoke and tortillas, wood burning, flour with lard and water, cool tile floors, earthen walls, sunlight in the lime tree... it's a fragrance that caught my breath. What is that smell of home doing in this canyon, in this place where the river meets the sea? And why does it make my heart ache to think of places and sensations that I cannot access at will, may never return to, or know as I knew them before? And how can a very favorite place, a place that restores me, lifts me, make me feel deeply sad, long for intangible moments? Nostalgia. Just how William explained it to me. It must be true... we are stardust, or how else can we feel connected to places and moments seemingly detached?