All good things, as we all know, must come to an end.
These images capture the final hours of Farm School last Thursday night and Friday morning.
The bittersweet feeling of a last moment is so familiar to me that I can feel it in my stomach, the place where loss always resonates.
More times than I care to remember, the parting moment arrived and had its way with me. In my childhood, it happened at Ludington and at Rolling Hills. Everybody else had left but we still were there.
My Dad usually was fishing. I was playing along the shore -- of a river, a lake, or (later on) the ocean. In my mind, a fantasy world emerged at these moments.
Sometimes, it was a counting world. I would gauge the waves as they broke over rocks, assigning them numbers.
Sometimes it was nothing more, or less, than a feeling -- that feeling that another ending has come. Somehow, as a child, I never saw a future, only the closing of a special past.
Hopefully, I'm better than that now, but then again, I'm not quite sure.
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