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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 hotdog 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 that made you feel like you were part of something, like an injoke.

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'd grown up with, not that I remember much of those days.

He was a bit scared to get 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 nowhere 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 townies.

I could barely walk down the street without having people stopping to ask if it was really me.

I'm so glad to see you, the chaplain said. Following the world downstream, right by us, just like the river, what a beautiful tapestry our Lordweaves.

I found him charming, but Alan thought it sounded a bit too English-majorie. You know what I mean.

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