One last time, before I go

One last swim in the French Broad river before I go. One last time to sit on the rocks and feel the water flow through my legs and fingers and the sun toast my skin.

One last movie at the $5 Tuesday screening, in a packed theater that disputes all theories that people don’t go to the movies anymore. They just go whenever the price makes sense and they can afford it.

One last bowl of blueberries before I go, my favorite sweet and sour fruit I start every morning with and cannot buy at home.

One last drive through the Blue Ridge Parkway, the scenery that never ends and the cars parked at the edge of the road waiting for their owners to come back from a hike.

One last night in the cabin, with its creaky floors and its smell of fresh rain and cozy warmth.

One last goodbye before we travel to our last stop, Mexico City, where my family awaits and the countdown begins for the end of this journey and the long way home.