The Overlook
We happened by this spot overlooking the Willamette recently, and the memory of Joey (from 13 years ago) walking across the grass flashed. Since this felt more sweet than bitter, I decided today to come again: this time solo, but for my smallish box of Bluestar Donuts for sweet comfort, should that become necessary.
It wasn’t, but I still ate them.
Sitting on the bench with my Lemon Poppy Old Fashioned in my left hand and my phone in my right, I searched for photos of that first visit to this spot in my Facebook photo album from Cassie’s graduation. If I were to recreate that moment in time, I might even feel more of Joey’s presence.
After capturing the new shots today, I looked back at the date on the album. I noticed the prophetic description I had written so many years ago (apparently, I had somehow lost some other pics):
“Great weekend but my best pics are in pics heaven.”
God knew I would feel the sting of loss and void seeing the blank spaces in today’s re-created photos. He swoops in and gives me the sweetest comfort, reminds me Joey is now at the highest and best overlook, walking on the softest grass and blades that never fade:
It’s been a great weekend but the best is yet to see.
