These objects form a border around two people, and other people can't get in. This can be one of the problems young relationships have; sometimes it feels as if a new romance can never build up the library of objects equal to what previous relationships have established. Falling head-over-heels might be a protective mechanism that insulates a romance until it has built up an object-vocabulary of its own.

For anyone who takes the time to look, here is an partial list of "Wistful Associations" that I put together and keep in my electronic journal. For the Digest, I've dissociated the concepts from the people I've shared them with: I'm a bit of an emotional exhibitionist, but can't be sure that someone I've loved doesn't think of these as a kind of sacred space.

In (roughly) chronological order:

• fedoras
• soda can pulltabs
• "Unchained Melody"
• minivans
• waiting, waiting for shooting stars
• crunching through leaves whistling "It's a Wonderful Night for a Moondance"
• Tennis on the Atari
• blue dresses
• tying the laces of a pair of (plaid) chucks
• tapioca pudding
• a white and black directors chair (now broken)
• bottles of liquid soap with figurines inside
• a sunflower
• pieces of ginger
• the wet warmth of crawling in bed after a shower
• "Turnpike" as the name for a first child
• absurdly huge tubs of movie popcorn