In my hometown of Aurora Falls, there was a yearly event with a fish migrate downstream

at the beginning of May. There was a large river running straight to the city centre, allowing

bystanders to watch the migration from the comfort of a hot dog stand near the river bank.

The migration is a sign that summer is right around the corner, and a lot of townsfolk

stop to watch it. A few vendors tend to stop by, and if you're

lucky, there might even be a few games in attractions.

It isn't much, but it is one of those things you'll start to miss once you move away.

I know I did.

When I moved out to study at the University of Minnesota, I started thinking a lot about

those old traditions back in my hometown. It was the kind of event I made you feel like

you were part of something, like an in-joke. It was just something that everyone knew

the importance of. The yearly migration, or migration day, was just one of those things

that outsiders don't get.

The year I got engaged, Alan and I decided to travel back to Aurora. I wanted him to

see the migration and experience the kind of small town love I grew up with. Not that

I remember much of those days. He was a bit skeptical at first, like with most things,

but the promise of food stands can go a long way. And as a bonus, he loves me. That goes

a long way too.

We arrived on a Saturday morning. Having no family left in town, there was no way for

us to stay, except at the one motel in town. After a short walk downtown, Alan and I met

the town chaplain. I didn't know him very well, but he was excited to see me. Just seeing

a familiar face, like a bird returning to the nest, could get a smile out of most town

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