Down by the river

By ARIANA GONZALEZ

My car follows the curving road that leads up to the bridge that separates two states. I drive slowly onto the bridge, taking in the beauty of my surroundings. For just a moment, I am in two places at once, with part of my car in New York, part in Pennsylvania. Below me, the Delaware River flows.

I drive off the bridge and turn into the Skinner’s Falls parking lot on my right. It’s empty. I turn off my car, get out and look around me. If this were a few weeks later, I would be driving through every lane looking for an empty space. As I got out, my eyes would light up at the many familiar cars of friends and family.

Now, I breathe in. My body fills with excitement; I am home.

Two paths lead from the front of the lot. To the right is the designated path, clean cut and paved by the park service, a path used mostly by tourists. For people who aren’t familiar with this river access, it would appear to be the only path. To the left it seems there is nothing but forest. However, if you know what you’re looking for, you can find an opening there to the second path. This one is shorter, and cuts through the woods straight down to the river. It is the path I choose.

When I was a lot younger, I would look up and see nothing but green. I would enter the path and for a minute or two, I would be in the jungle—my own rain forest. I always had to be with my mom when walking there. Years later, after surviving several floods, the forest is shorter and I am taller. The path isn’t as adventurous as it used to be. It’s an old, familiar walk that brings back memories of being eight and in the Amazon.

After arriving at the rocky beach, I sit down on a towel and take in my surroundings, enjoying the silence. I recall a hot summer day, not quiet at all.

The beach is filled with people, tourists enjoying unfamiliar nature as well as locals. I sit in a circle with old friends and family who have been gathering there for as long as I can remember. In the middle is the food that each family has contributed. It is Thursday, and it is a weekly tradition to have a potluck at the river. Taking in the love and positive vibes, I have never felt more at home.

The scene changes. I am six. To the left are several rocks. Peace Rock is the big rock, the one that kids and adults jump off with waves of laughter and happiness. I sit and wait. Chuck is almost done eating his pizza. “Ari, want me to take you to the rock?” he asks. “Yes!” I scream. We enter the river. When we get close to the rock and it gets deeper, Chuck grabs hold of me, keeping me safe. We arrive at the rock and Chuck lifts me in his arm onto the rock. We take turns jumping off the rock for a while. When we finish, he helps me back to shore.

I am eight. I am old enough to go to the rock alone with my friends and peers. My brother climbs easily onto the rock. Once he is on, he grabs my hand and helps me up. We jump off and the cycle continues, him helping me all along the way.

I am 10. Without a sweat, I swim over to the rock and climb on by myself.

I am 15. My friends and I go to the rock and jump off a few times, then climb back onto the rock. Instead of jumping, we lie down. We spend the next hour relaxing.

I am 17. After a day of work, I take my nephew to the river with some other kids. We get into the river and swim to the rock. My nephew is only four; the other kids are nine and 10. I take him with me to the rock and help him onto the rock. The cycle continues with a new generation.

I continue to sit on the beach and enjoy the memories this river brings up. After a few minutes, I reach into my pocket and turn on my iPod. I put it on shuffle. The music starts. Recognizing the music to be Keane’s “Somewhere Only We Know,” I chuckle to myself. After a moment, a voice sings, “I walked across an empty land. I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. I felt the earth beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete.”

I look at Peace Rock. I have grown up.

(Ariana Gonzalez lives in Beach Lake, PA and is a 2008 Honesdale High School graduate.)

Dr. Punnybone

Imminent Domain