I don't even do the puzzles much anymore. It used to be a cherished part of my routine, but like anything, there comes a point where it's just done, when the codes aren't worth the cracking anymore.

Done is done, over is over, and I get that, and that's OK. If no one even understands what you're looking for, not even looking is the way to go.

Sunday crosswords, however, are still a weak point for me. The scentless couches and lopsided tables still beckon me to pause and try, even when I know I'll be on my own. The Sundays usually have an abundance of band names hidden in them, which are good even when I'm smiling at them by myself.

They're also rarely subject to the clues with special meanings, unlike the puzzle I tried this week. In that one, I found the clue "Divine Comedy" poet lurking far below eye level on the left hand side. That one I had to handle by just scrawling the right five letters and walking away, but the odds of my landing in that circle again seem slim. Today of all days I should be OK.

So today I defied the unseasonably infernal weather, found a seat, clicked the pen, and got to work. Fill in the top left corner first, I always say, and try not to listen for the echoes.

Didn't take long, though. 2 Down, four letters, first one A: Cry of pity.

ALAS.

OK, I can be philosophical about the first reminder. It's precisely the sort of thing I would have taken to the counter with a seemingly innocent request for help, but that's OK, I'll handle it myself.

20 Down, three letters, second one S: Burro.

ASS.

OK, so much for subtlety.

Now that one was guaranteed to make me long for the best of the badonqueria days, if only for how well everyone would have taken the joke. How any overtones unfitting would have simply gone unnoticed, with the compliment and camaraderie intact. Not for the first time, I wonder how I'd ever managed to fall into the middle of something that wonderful in the first place.

4 Down, seven letters, M-RA---: Marvel.

MIRACLE.

Well, I find I have to agree with that; it certainly was miraculous. There seems to be some consensus on that point, even; I'm happy it wasn't just me.

I've seen things somewhat like it, because I look for that sort of thing. I keep reference points handy, maps and legends, to let me steer towards them. But there's nothing just like it, not in all of the remembrance I carry around.

It's about at this point that I realize that I'm not actually going to finish the damn crossword. Not today, not on this day of all the days of the year. I decide to stop after the seven-letter word that completes that block in the corner, as I almost have it already. I chuckle under my breath as I check the clue for 5 Down.

One more, it says. ANOTHER, I respond, immediately.

There will be, yes indded. These things do happen more than once, especially if you help them along. I carry compasses and sextants in my memories to help me navigate, and I aim for places seeming ripe for something special.

It can be weighty to carry those navigational aids around, to drag my souvenirs on every trip. Right now, they seem so heavy that I can barely lift a pen. No question, they slow me down.

But I can't imagine what else I'd rather have.

Today, I left that place that was no longer the place it had been two years before. I had not finished what I'd started there, but I was not bemoaning that fact.

I kept all my clues with me carefully as I went.