We started the day at the farmer's market.  A brisk walk away on busy Saturday streets in May.  It wasn't quite warm and the sun teased in and out with the gathering clouds.  The market was bright with the hope and promise of spring, even though very little was actually ready yet.  We wandered through, buying only walnuts, but soaking in the bubbling joy of being outdoors.  

We never even questioned the draw of the river, ending there almost by default.  Traffic roaring across the bridge overhead was muted by the quiet shady peace of the campus park.  We walked across that bridge together one night, daring the shudder of the passing cars and deep dark power of the river below.  She walked across it alone more times than I think I want to know about, strong and brave from the day she was born, always off on an adventure.  

It's graduation day.  She'll cross that stage this afternoon, as we squint across the cavernous room, struggling to pick her out from the streaming mass of black robes.  With hugs and laughter and resolute faith, she'll march out onto the mist shrouded bridge of life.