A Little Slice of Summer

Yesterday I went on an adventure of sorts up a long, winding, rocky mountain trail that tested my strength with every clomp and squeak of my crutches as I pulled myself along.  I followed behind, not even able to keep up with the dogs who were excited and ready to run.  They meandered on and off the path, smelling everything, peeing on anything they liked.  They were too impatient for us humans, two of which, with their strong legs, took everything in stride, barely breaking a sweat as they led the way before me.  Once in a while they stopped and patiently waited for me to catch up.  I'm sure they doubted me.  They second guessed our decision to trek down to the river via that particular path, but I was determined to make it all the way, even if I had to crawl at some point.

"It's about a quarter of a mile." He said just as we started out.

"Are there hills?  Because hills are what worry me with these crutches." I said.

"No," he assured me, it's not hilly."

After we walked about a quarter of a mile we stopped for a second to give my underarms a break from the crutches rubbing against my bare skin.

"It's a little farther than I thought." He admitted.

I rolled my eyes, and sighed heavily.  "So how far is it then?"

"About another quarter of a mile." He grinned.

We started off again.  I tried my best to keep up, but they still, in their wholeness, left me behind. Eventually they got tired of waiting for me, and with the swimming hole ahead, were anxious to dive in.

"Let me carry you," he said.  I protested at first, feeling guilty for being broken, for slowing us down and making even the most pleasant, peaceful of activities more difficult than it needed to be.

Having none of my protests, he made me wear his heavy backpack, then slung me over his shoulders like a wounded soldier.  He carried me, my crutches and the backpack as if we weighed hardly anything.  As I hung on tightly, we had a light conversation, as if two people in such a position making their way
up a mountain path toward the river were perfectly normal.  He carried me a good distance, though once my right leg started to tingle from lack of blood-flow he stopped and set me down on my good leg.  He handed my crutches back to me and I again started my clomp, squeak, clomp back up the trail through rocks and horse poop, weeds and brambles, trying my best to keep up but still falling behind.

My boy walked between us, a yellow bag full of snacks and sodas weighing him down.  He tossed it over one shoulder, then the other, now and then complaining that it was cutting into his skin. I tried to carry it and continue on my crutches, but I was scolded for that.

He took the bag from me and carried it for my boy for a few minutes before declaring that he needed to carry me again.  That time, he left the backpack on and lifted me over his shoulders once more.  The forest was more dense, and the wide pathway we started out on had narrowed to a mere foot trail, meant to be walked single file, every man for himself.  With the boy trailing behind us, he heaved forward uphill, down hill, through thick brush and slanted ground until finally, a clearing.

"I hope you'll think it was worth this once we get there" He said just before we noticed the river within view. He took me into the clearing and set me down on my good leg again.  We threw our stuff down on a mound of dirt and moss and he stripped down to his ragged cut offs and jumped into the river.  I helped my boy get out of his clothes. In nothing but his underwear he took off without hesitation, which for some reason, took me by surprise.

Before I knew it, the boy was out in the middle of the river, stomping away on the rocks, splashing himself and laughing at the swimming dog.

I made my way down to the riverbank, but with only one good leg, I felt I could go no further.  The thick, black river mud was ready to swallow my crutches, should I try to use them to get to the one rock that was close by.  So I stood there for a while, feeling happy, enjoying the beautiful river, watching them play, but feeling kind of left out as well.

After a few minutes, I finally weakened and asked him to help me get onto the rock.  The rock I had in mind was only a couple of steps away, partially covered in mud, and so far out of the water I would have only been able to stick a toe in.

He lifted me over his shoulders again and waded out onto the slippery river bed. I protested a little when he started carrying me so far. I was afraid he would slip and fall.  But he was steady and confident, telling me to stop talking as he set me down slow and easy on a large rock.  "Just ease yourself down right here," he commanded.  So that's what I did.

Fully dressed, I sat down on the big rock and slid myself across it to a spot where I could sit and hang my legs over into the cold water.  I let the current flow against my feet as I sucked in a deep gulp of fresh mountain air and let my eyes take in the beauty that surrounded me.  Poised on my rock I could see up-river, where it forked off in different directions. There were rocks lying just below the surface of the water where my boy ran around picking up smaller stones and tossing them into the deeper water.  The dog swam relentlessly, needing an occasional reminder to stop and take a break.

He jumped in again too.  Just jumped right off the rock ledge into water so deep that it swallowed him up. He swam with the dog and tried to get my boy to join him in the deeper part, but my boy isn't always trusting of others.

"This," I thought to myself, "is the sweetest taste of summer I've had in a very long time." And I sat there on that rock, my broken leg dangling in the water, the tube in my belly safely in the dry, for a long time.  I took in the sounds of strange birds chirping around me, the crackling fire by the riverside, the sound of my boy laughing and making up stories as he played.  I felt the breeze blowing down the river, sweeping my sweaty hair back from my face, brushed my hand across the rocks, felt the familiar slime of the river bottom beneath my toes. I felt the sun baking my skin on one side, shivered as the dog shook beside me, showering my back in cold mountain water.  I breathed in the smell of river mud and campfire smoke and for that brief bit of time, I felt a lot like the old me.

I've been missing the old me lately, grieving her even.  Life sometimes gets so messy that you can lose yourself among its clutter if you aren't careful.  There in the middle of the river, I was surrounded by peacefulness. The whisper of leaves blowing in the wind replacing the sound of shuffling papers. Instead of filling out forms and researching options, I sat quietly with myself, trying to figure out a way to keep my Diet Coke from floating away.  Instead of propping my leg on pillows, staring at a TV or computer screen, I propped my feet on the rocks and watched my son play.  The worries of my usual day were so far away from me that even if I had thought of them, I wouldn't have believed them to be true.

I knew it wouldn't last forever, yet even with the difficult trek back to the car on my mind I had no regrets.  I spent my afternoon in the most perfect spot imaginable, although it did take a lot of work for everyone to get there.

Once out of the river, we dried ourselves a little by the fire and ate our snacks.  It's funny how the water makes you so hungry.  Then we set out back down the trail to the car.  Again it was work, with me struggling to keep my rhythm with crutches, allowing him to carry me for a while here and there, but we made it to the car in what seemed like no time at all.  The evening was settling upon us as the breeze around us cooled and the sun hid behind the canopy of trees all around us.  We drove home with the windows down, not quite ready to close ourselves off from nature completely.  With our bellies growling and the worn out dogs sleeping in the back seat, we made our way back home feeling a little lighter than we did before we left.

Because sometimes all you need is a little slice of summer to remind you that life is really, really good.