Revisited an old bridge inspection report and actually felt something

I pulled out an inspection report from ten years ago, a steel truss I haven't touched since. Re-reading my own notes, the handwriting, the little sketches — I remembered the morning temperature, the sound of my boots on the deck. It felt like reading a letter from a stranger I used to be. I don't know if that's nostalgia or just loneliness, but I'm keeping the report on my desk for a while.