It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining with a few white, cotton ball clouds drifting lazily across a stunningly blue sky. The river, with its deceptively fast current, splashes and burbles just on the other side of the rail. There are birds calling and dogs barking playfully. Children laugh and swing and chase at the nearby park. It’s the kind of laughter I miss even as I hear it. And so many lovely people out and about. On a day like today, I can’t say I blame them. An elderly couple holding hands, making quiet jokes and tittering to each other. Some teenagers riding their bikes and skateboards down the walkway. A family of a mother and father, around my age, and their little boy, who would be around hers when… But the walk is nice and it gets my body moving. I haven’t been doing a lot of moving lately, and so I appreciate the feeling of concrete beneath my feet. I appreciate the sounds and the movement and the life. Despite knowing that I have to walk this path every day, I can’t imagine getting away from here. There’s too many memories. As I near the end of the riverwalk, I see a laminated sign and a small bouquet of flowers. A name and a picture and two dates. I feel wetness on my cheek. A drop of rain on a beautiful day.