I remember my arrival and first day in Carlyle quite clearly, though that isn't particularly surprising, as seeing it was only just over two years ago now.
The desperation I felt to arrive at the town, never having been a fan of night driving on unfamiliar highways, was palpable.
Three days I had been on the road, putting about 10 hours a day behind the wheel.
As I passed each community in the growing darkness, I looked at my map, and counted down the communities as they passed.
It was pitch-black by the time I had passed Redvers, and I almost pulled into Manor, more out of the desperate hope that that town, a glowing place in the darkness of the night, was my planned destination.
But as these things go, I arrived at Carlyle in one piece, happy to have finally arrived in my new community.
That evening, I had the opportunity to meet my fellow reporter, Lizz, as well as my present boss, Cindy.
I was taken out for a bite to eat at The Office restaurant, and then escorted to the house which would serve as home for the next two years.
It was that following morning, having slept soundly on the floor of my new digs that I had a chance to tour my new community, and see the place I would be calling home.
My former address was on 2nd St. West, so I walked north along this street, taking in the sights, until I came to Railroad St. West.
From there I could see the museum, and being an armchair historian, I immediately decided to head in that direction.
As I approached the front of the old train station building, I could see a woman loading potted plants into the back of a white pick-up truck from the front porch of the museum.
Deciding this would be an excellent opportunity to lend a hand and meet my first Carlyle resident outside of work, I strolled over and offered to lend a hand.
The woman who was busy with the plants was Shirley Pirlot.
It was a pleasant meeting and, thanks to my arrival there, led quickly to a meeting with her husband John.
The two immediately impressed me with their open friendliness, and obvious community spirit.
While I would meet many more people who would prove to me the adage about rural people being kind and open was a true as the sun is bright, I have to tip my hat to Shirley and John for making me feel as welcome as I did as quickly as I did.
Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a celebration for John and Shirley, which was to mark their 50th wedding anniversary.
While my wife and I haven't quite hit our decade together yet (that's coming this year,) I think I can understand the love and commitment that would hold two people together for so long.
In a day and age where up to 50 percent of marriages end in separation or divorce, it warms the heart and adds support to my belief in the strength of relationships that two people can stay together for so long.
I suppose in some way, Shirley and John will always be close to my heart thanks to our fateful meeting that sunny autumn day when I first met them.
So I would like to take a moment to congratulate the two on their milestone anniversary, and wish them both many more years to come.
I would extend these wishes out to all the other couples who are celebrating anniversaries as well, because as anyone who is married or in a long-term relationship knows, sometimes keeping the universe a happy place takes much effort and patience.
And finally, for those who are single and looking, and those who have suffered a loss, remember John and Shirley, and know that there is always someone out there.
If you are patient, you too may find yourself with a partner to share the journey of life with you.
Ever onwards, and ever upwards.
