On such a beautiful, warm day as today, we grabbed the chance to walk in an old county park that John and I both remember from our childhood. There is not much that distinguishes Smedley Park - the main path winds through an old baseball field, then down underneath a busy highway, and onward, along a small creek that once powered an old 18th Century mill, the shell of which has been converted into a rather unremarkable office park - but it’s a place John considered his private playground when he was young and which brings back a vaguely frightening memory for me of scouting for bridge trolls with a young friend I can no longer name.

We do not have the opportunity to go back in time, to relive the best bits of our lives, but there are days when the sun shines and the creeks flow enough to see reflections of what is good and what is special about our life today and what mattered in the days and years gone by.