Several weeks ago, I received an envelope in the mail from my former employer. It contained a stack of baby photos of my son Ethan that I had accidentally left behind in my office. They were wrapped in a piece of paper inscribed with a note: “I found these photos and I’m sure you will want them. Hope things have worked out for you.” It was a nice gesture, especially considering the woman who sent them could have just as easily thrown them in the trash. But when I opened the package and saw the photos, and thought about where I had left them, it reminded me how much I don’t miss that place.
