Someday you’ll drive past your old bus stop and realize how small it was and how big it felt.

Places shrink as you grow. The corner that held a whole weather system of waiting and nerves and other kids turns out to be a small patch of concrete, and both things are true, because the size was never the point. What made it large was everything that happened to you while you stood there. Worth knowing before you need it.

Go past somewhere from your younger years this week and stand there for a minute. A school gate, a playground, an old stop. Notice what the place is, and separately what it still carries for you.