When my father was alive we liked to pick up breakfast at his favorite local bakery, Luna, and then drive to Sulphur Springs, a secluded area in the South Chagrin reservation of the Cleveland Metroparks that was accessible by car. I would lift his walker from the back of the car, and he would make his way to the closest picnic table, where we would sit, eat, read the paper. After a while I would walk down to the creek to take a photograph. Sulphur Springs is a moment in time. We could sit for an hour or more, and hear nothing but bird calls, the sound of water burbling over the stones, and the occasional car.

Once, when the leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn, my father befriended an inquisitive toddler and his translator father but, especially after the children went back to school in the fall, it was usually just us. We would go as long into the cold weather as we could, until the gates were finally closed to traffic for the winter. Then we would talk about when the gates would reopen in spring. 

Even after his mobility was compromised, Dad liked to “get out and move around.” When I was a kid, he had insisted we children do the same. He had been an athlete in his younger days, the kind of person who always kept moving. When he first began to complain about his hip, I could get him to grin by referring to his troubles as “shortstop’s hip.” I wanted to make him feel more proud of the life he had led than frustrated by where it was taking him. As a kid, I went with him to his Sunday morning softball games for many years, long after friends and siblings had stopped coming. He played well into his forties. I loved spending time together, and learning to appreciate small things. 

This past week I picked up an iced coffee at Luna, and drove back to Sulphur Springs for the first time since my father passed away. 

I miss him.
I love it here.
I am back.
It took two years.
I did not realize the last time we went that it was the last time.

I sat for a long time, watching half a dozen children playing in the water, jumping, hugging, catching minnows in large butterfly nets, splashing and shouting: 

“Another one — I found another one!” and

“This is the best week in the history of the world!”