There is another reward . . .
I grew up on one side of Mt. Tabor Park and Gary on the other. The park was literally an extension of Gary's back yard so it became his childhood playground. My memories are somewhat different because to reach the top I had to cross a busy street and climb up steep steps called, "Stairway to Heaven." Both of us spent countless hours in the magnificent forested oasis.
Our Thursday morning jogging route took us up behind the double reservoir to a road that arcs around a large picnic area across from the crater. All at once a flood of memories washed over me - the annual church picnic with my parents and grandparents; family reunions; the sound of children's voices on the playground; girl scout outings in the rain; the first kiss from a special boyfriend; and the intoxicating aroma of the forest on a warm summer day. Mt. Tabor is woven into the fabric of our memories. Just to be here is worth the price . . . we have come home.