As I gaze out at the swiftly flowing water broken up only by the smooth gray boulders which stand in its way, I calculate the best route for crossing. Some rocks, covered in moss and slick algae, would easily twist an ankle or cause an unlucky hiker to tumble into the cold stream. Crouching, I gingerly step out, taking it one stone at a time, trying to avoid the damp ones. I can feel the gentle spray of the rushing water on my cheeks. I cautiously step onto a rock that appears to be sound. I feel it start to shift beneath my weight and quickly retreat. I take a few deep breaths and press on, going slowly and carefully. When I reach the halfway point, I pause for a moment to listen to the wind rushing through the trees, the percussive sound of the waterfall, and the birds calling in the distance. Looking upstream, I glimpse little silver fish swimming happily along in the fast current. The vivid green of the leaves and bright rays of sunshine reflect in the water and create a sparkling mosaic. A flash of bright red catches my attention. A woodpecker has landed on a nearby tree. He begins to scale the trunk, occasionally stopping to hammer away at loose pieces of bark. The sound of the bird's knocking echoes throughout the woods. I slowly sink down until I am sitting cross-legged on the rock. I ponder. Some people prefer to sit on the bank, too frightened to cross the stream. Others leap quickly from boulder to boulder, focusing only on their destination and not caring where their feet land. Then there are the ones who take the time to enjoy the hike, the ones who take the time to admire each and every stone, each and every crevice, each and every leaf. I stand slowly, taking in the world around me. The woodpecker, startled by my movement, flits to another tree. As he begins his process all over again, I smile and continue on my journey.
Written by Karen Thead
