On the River

I am alone on a kayak, enjoying the Florida sun. It is tranquil and quiet, and all I have to think about is the sound of the birds happily enjoying the weather as much as I am. I am drifting down the Weekie Wachee River. I am drifting so slowly, it is almost as if I am not moving at all. I need my oar only to steer and avoid the occasional low lying tree branch covered with the unique Spanish moss I have only seen here in Florida. And for this moment, the ride is simple, beautiful and joyous.

I turn the corner and there is a wonderfully red headed wood pecker working hard and quite noisily on the mangrove at the water's edge. I smile, as the sight of him brings me to a childhood memory that I have not thought of in years. I am back at home, in my little pajamas, watching an old episode of Wood Woodpecker, a bowl of popcorn, and my father at my side.

I am just above a natural spring now, and you can see straight through the crystal water all the way to the bottom. There are hundreds of fish swimming in the hole, and I wonder to myself what their purpose is. Whatever it is, they are swimming there, wildly, in all directions, and at times, in a uniform ellipse. I stop to watch them for a while, and I notice that most of them look the same. There are a few that are different from the rest of the group, and I wonder what they are doing there. Are they alone, or just venturing away from their own loved ones who are maybe nestled under a rock deep below the surface.

As the ride continues, and the water begins to shallow, I notice a raccoon cub grabbing insects out of the water with his mother. His little hands are long and thin, like dark little spindly human hands. His masked face gives away the delight he feels in catching this bug. Mom stands by, unaffected by the trophy. She is simply puttering around at the water's surface, no particular goal in mind, except to keep her baby under her watchful eye.

It is so quiet, that for a moment, I do not realize that my small kayak is stuck. The water is so shallow, that the dense mud is sucking my vessel in. I am not worried. I just toss off my sandals and get out and drag the boat all the way up on shore. I find a grassy spot in the shade of the large oak tree whose roots are invading the life inside the river. The enormous roots of this tree that gives me relief from the heat of the day are bulging through the bed of this grassy retreat. I find a spot to drop my towel and lay down to watch the wonderous sky peeking at me from above the treetops and poking its way down to my face. I close my eyes as a cloud gives way to the sun, and I sleep.