I knew the day would come. The Last Day. It was our favorite place on earth for 10 summers in a row. Little moments and silly days became weeks and months and then those stretched out to become years... and then miraculously, somehow......I'm still not sure how......all of those moments and visits and times together turned into a full decade. Legs grew long, baby teeth fell out, bodies got too heavy to hold all the time. The echo of a child's laughter, the taste of ice cream sitting on the sticky bench at the little concession area, the sweat on our brow as we paddled in the paddleboats, the smell of fresh hay as we bounced on the hayrack ride, the Zipping sound as they jumped off the platform to zip on the zipline track (Wait your turn!!), the sound of the coin clinking in the machine that turned on the 1800's piano that played in the old fashioned house on the Main Street walk. And finally that "CHOO CHOO" sound as we boarded the little steam engine train to ride a few laps around the train tracks, giggling and holding hands and yelling "Scream when we get to the tunnel!"
I knew those days would end. I knew it, I really did. But I was having so much fun with them, I never wanted to imagine that it wouldn't last forever. I felt like those summer days would just continue on and on, without a last chapter. I thought that if I didn't think about it then it meant it wouldn't ever actually come to an end. I couldn't process that a day might come when they simply got too big and too bored and wanted to do something else. I knew it, because I never saw any other big kids there, just families with little ones. I knew it so well that on that particular day that summer, I didn't have it in me to acknowledge that it might be The Last Day. Honestly, I think I knew it was. We didn't order the summer pass that summer, as I had in so many years past. The kids had gotten way busier with baseball and softball and other activities. I had hoped there would be other visits, but I sensed what was coming. The busy-ness. The running from point A to point B on a daily basis, making little time in between for the little moments.
So in the end, it turned out to be the real Last Day. Our last day together with just the 4 of us at Blackberry Farm. The last day of chubby little fingers and merry go round rides and rides on the ponies. The last day of sliding down the slides and riding the little green tractors on the track, the last day of viewing everything through the wondering eyes of a child. The day became a kind of symbol in our lives. A symbol of growing up. Of letting go and moving on to newer, more big kid things. Changes. New beginnings. A before and an after. So many precious moments that I hold onto when I'm feeling sad. Moments so sweet and wonderful and so much a part of our history that I preserve the moments in my mind like I'm locking up the vaults of the Smithsonian Institute. I revisit those moments in my mind sometimes. They help me when I'm longing for the little days and struggling a bit with the present.
That day was sunny and sweet and fun. So full of joy and love and living in the moment. We did all the favorite things, I know that we did. We always did. I don't remember each moment. But I remember feeling happy. I vividly remember being present and happy and content. I remember holding onto those feelings and never wanting to let them go. I know, in my heart, that it was a good day. A day that was very well spent.
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