Sometimes you've just got to let go.

When I was growing up in the late 1990's, there was a huge field by my house with abandoned farm houses, plum trees, a pond, and a huge tree where we built a rope swing and fort.

I can diverge and talk about how I loved growing up like that. Everyday was an adventure with my neighborhood friends.
It wasn't sitting at home playing (insert video game name here) in an enclosed room like many children do now.

But this is not what this post is about.

So let's continue..shall we?

One day when I was ten, I was walking home from school as I usually did with my usual group of friends.
I remember I saw it first..

I stopped in my tracks.

My tree fort and swing were torn down. Yellow caution tape covered the tree.

That was my first memorable moment where something beautiful that I helped create was torn to pieces without my consent.

I resented the houses that were later created. Those construction workers, those families, every person involved on that side of the street was the enemy. I felt personally attacked. They took away my fields...they took away everything that I've come to know.

About seven years later, when I got my beachcruiser after highschool graduation, I rode it all the time. I used to ride the path to Alton Baker on a weekly basis.
There was this white swinging bench facing the river about half way between the start of the bike path and the end. I would always sit on it to read or write or to just think.
I adored that bench.
I also felt this weird ownership to it. Even though it was so clearly not mine to keep.

I told you. I have somewhere special to take you before I leave this summer.

So, I came back to Eugene and the sun finally decided to show his face! I hopped on my beachcruiser at the first chance. I wanted to ride back to Alton Baker. I wanted to see my white bench.

I was getting closer and closer.

And then I looked over.

there were two poles, two hanging chains...

and a sad empty space.

I had that same feeling that I felt when I was ten. It was such a vivid feeling that you could almost bottle it up and put it on a shelf.

Once I made it to my final destination, I sat on another bench and I thought about this for a bit.

There was only one thing I could do.

I had to let it go.

because when things like that happen... there's no going back.

no matter how much you want to.