I found myself thinking about parking lots today and it occurred to me that even something as nondescript as a few hundred square feet of asphalt can become a window on our lives.
The parking lot that had come to mind was the lot adjacent to the church that was just down the street from our home when we lived in rural Pennsylvania.
The lot was my destination when I pulled my toddlers in a wagon for an afternoon adventure. The same lot was where I watched my son and daughter work to master a bicycle without training wheels. Later still the parking lot was where my son worked out the logistics of parallel parking and three point turns in preparation for his driving test.
On that patch of black asphalt I watched years slip by. While I was convinced I could mark each day at the time, it now seems certain that there must indeed be such things as time warps because, surely, those years could not have passed as quickly as they did.
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