Let the Journey Begin

Today was carefree.

Without jackets, we headed to the Ohio River in Newburgh.

It's been a long time since we've been down there, and it was great to walk along the river petting dogs and playing in fountains, looking at overpriced artwork and beat up used books.

We stayed there for about 90 minutes, doing everything that we won't get to do for much longer.

It's supposed to snow on Tuesday. And we'll be gone in a month.

As I walked around in Newburgh, I thought about how much I'm going to miss it. This is my town, you know? This is where I grew up, went to high school, came home to during college, bought my first house, got married, had children.

And through all that there was this quaint small-town remnant along the southern part of the Ohio, one state before it merges with the Mississippi.

This downtown where I marched in parades and went for countless walks with strollers. Where I have taken pictures year after year, even exposing photography students to the artistic possibilities all around us when we're only aware.

This is the downtown with the tree that withstood the tornado, where Billy and I made a point to go on our wedding day -- a symbol that our home will be strong through all kinds of storms.

There were so many reminders of good times and special memories. It could be easy to be upset right now. To be uncertain of the future, trying to hold on to the past.

But today was carefree. It wasn't the sadness of loss, so much as the joy in the moment. The happy remembrances of years gone by and the eager hopes for years to come.

Because more memories will be made, no matter where we are. Other places will earn my favor and become attached to the beauty of a memory. And there will be other times to mourn.

Today was a time for laughing.