I grew up near Dry Creek in the 1960s. We played in it through the summer months and crossed it every day on our way to and from school. Almost every year, it flooded our little hometown. Then I moved away for decades. By what feels like a small miracle of chance, I have come to live beside it once again, though now much farther upstream. For the past eight years, we have walked along its banks each day. To have such a familiar and cherished place just beyond our door feels like a gift—like being reunited with an old friend. The birds, the trees, the flowing water—it is a hidden treasure set within the bustle of urban and suburban life.