In the intervening year, I've forgotten about Lost. It actually seems like it's been longer, like the memories have more in common with my distant, hazy childhood than they do with my modern life. I haven't re-watched the series as I'd planned; in fact, I neglected to get the box set, or even a regular copy of the final season. I'd like to go back to it, but that's a thought that hasn't gained much traction yet, and may not for quite a while, but when it does, enough time may have passed that I will have forgotten a lot of it and it will seem exciting and fresh instead of a chore I'm forcing myself to endure in order to regain some piece of the past I think I might be missing. For now, right now, I'm content with it being left on the shelf. I'm not ashamed of it; all things eventually become part of the past, and whatever part of that past affects your present cannot be changed and can never again be experienced the same way. The show was great and will always be among my very favorites, but when I think back to the show and remember it fondly, it's not the show I'm remembering, it's watching the show and sharing it with others. That experience can never and should never be resurrected. And that is as it should be. Don't cry because it's over...smile because it happened. Then step on through the church doors.
But seriously, why couldn't they reveal who was shooting at them from the other canoe? It would have taken all of ten seconds. My primary theory is that when the Others from the Temple were looking for