When my son was little, we couldn’t afford vacations. Every Saturday we packed peanut butter sandwiches, drove to Sloan’s Lake, and pretended we were somewhere far away.
He chased geese and we skipped rocks. We would make up stories about the people sailing by.
Now he’s in college and every time I drive past the lake, I still slow down.
Some of the biggest memories in my life happened during the smallest moments.