Last night I drove through my old neighborhood. I caught a glimpse of the first house my husband and I had bought together; it still has the goose mailbox affixed to the front porch steps and I could see the fresh green sprouts of spring in the flower beds under the living room window. A couple minutes later I was paused a the stop light in front of the Kroger's we used to shop. It looked exactly the same. Even the parking lot had not changed - cracks and potholes aplenty. I don't normally have a reason to point my car in this direction. My daily work commute may whisk me by the old neighborhood, but the expressway leaves little time for reflection or even recognition. A quick glimpse of our old rooftop and siding is about as much as I ever see, and that's only if I'm paying attention. Last night, though, I had a reason to drive through this once familiar territory. A few weeks ago one of my instructors sent me an e-mail asking if I knew of anyone who might be in...