We took advantage of the gorgeous weather last weekend to visit one of our favorite state parks and did a bit of exploring/rambling/hiking/picnicking.
When we moved from our previous house to this one a few months ago, I kept waiting for my moment of nostalgia, the welling up of all the good memories we'd had in that place, momentarily overshadowing all the very very bad things that caused us to move in the first place.
It never came.
I had it here, at the park, though.
Carl's been doing phone interviews for a new job, new city, new state (more about that if it comes through - I'm not terribly superstitious, but I still don't like talking about things when they are nebulous possibilities instead of "Hey! We're moving in two weeks!"), which means that we are looking very seriously at everything we do here being the "last time."
The last time for apple picking at our favorite orchard. The last time seeing the gloriousness of an Upstate NY autumn. The last time visiting each of our favorite parks. Our last time at this park, this park we visited when Gracie was a week old and we had to get out of the house, the park that gave my children a place to run and play when we didn't have a yard, the park where we were able to look from the mountaintop and see the beauty of this strange new city when it was all new to us.
And then I had that nostalgic twinge. I forced myself to walk slowly, to breathe deeply, to soak in the moment instead of regretting how quickly it would pass. And as the littles ran and tumbled and laughed and played, as Carl chased them all over in crazy circles, I smiled and let the memories sink down into my heart.
We may never visit this park again, but we will always have each other, and new memories will build on top of the old ones.