One recent day– after a rainy, dreary day, plans falling through, and an afternoon spent moping around feeling sad– the sun finally emerged from behind the clouds. The evening was lovely and cool, the sky had a pre- and post-rainstorm beauty. Not knowing where I was headed but knowing I needed to get OUT, I piled the kids into the car and took off. I ended up at Herron Park– a place in the mountains with a meadow, a creek, and a trail that goes for miles and miles– and decided I would run, hike and play with my children. This place, this trail, holds meaning for me. It’s very close to where we live now and where we lived before we left this place, so Matt and I would come here often to walk. We’d pack our kids on our backs, hike up the hill for awhile, and talk, plan, and dream together. This evening, on this trail, with my kids several years older and with Matt in my thoughts, we walked that trail. It took lots of encouragement (and some bribery), but the kids made it up the steep hill and enjoyed the fun of running back down. I brought my camera, let the kids use it as well, and was amazed by the lovely pictures we took together. It was the perfect way to re-set, move, breathe, and experience the joy always available to me when I open up to it.