“Mommy, here’s a shiny one.” Sarah, my four year old, hands me a little silver speckled white rock from one hand while tossing the rock from the other into the river. “Mommy. That one’s not for throwing..it’s for you to keep.”
I held the rock out until the sun’s light made it look like I was holding a diamond. Then I put it safely in my pocket. Made me think? What gives a stone it’s worth? And why is that we love things that sparkle?
Last night, as we took a night hike around our North Mills campsite in North Carolina, billions of stars dotted the moonless sky. Sarah, gripping tightly to her daddy’s hand, looked up and said, “Ooooh! The sky is too sparkly!”
“Do you like it?” Wasn’t sure why she chose the word too?
“Yes!” Must be a four year old thing.
And I totally agreed. I would choose a sparkly sky over a diamond ring any day. Hubby knew this about me, so he got away with proposing to me with his heart alone. Yup. No ring. Just his promise. To love me, if given the chance.
The only think I love more than a starry night is a shooting star. The sky alive! I saw my first falling star in college, somewhere north of Evanston, IL, during a weekend retreat with some friends.
Three of us were walking back to our cabins when my friend T. asked, “What do you mean you’ve never seen a shooting star?”
“I don’t know. We never really went camping growing up. What’s your point?”
“You have to see one. Then you’ll see why.”
So we ran out into an open field, as far away from any possible light, and all three of us laid onto our backs. Then T. said, “God. Could you just show my friend Raj one shooting star?” I giggled, aware of what a bold request my friend made to the creator of the universe.
And not even seconds later, a burst of light dove across the sky and disappeared. It happened in an instant. If I had blinked, I might have missed it. We jumped up, screaming and hugging and asking the obvious: “Did you see? Did you see that? Did you see how awesome that was!?!”
Ever since then, whenever we go camping, we make time to look at the stars. A couple of summers ago, we took our first cross country trip from New York to California, visiting as many National Parks as possible along the way. And each night, we’d climb to the top of the RV and lay on our backs and watch for shooting stars. After the second night of seeing the most brilliant light shows of bursts followed by sparkling tails that trailed behind, we thought, maybe we’re just closer to the sky. The stars looked bigger. The trail of fire seemed longer. And there were so many!
Come to find out from a park ranger that we were experiencing a week of meteor showers and we should keep looking each night for the rest of our trip to see more. And we did! Jewels that streamed across our eyes as each of us pointed, “Over there! Now over there! Wow! Did you see that one? Awesome!” Thankful for our pillows and sleeping bags since the nights were chilly, and glad no one slipped off the top of the RV in all the excitement.
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The next day, we stopped by a Kayaking shop to talk to someone about a river trip we’d heard about from a neighbor camper/outdoorsman. The woman we spoke with was extremely helpful, showing us a river map that gave us exact locations of wear to drop our kayaks in and how to count the bridges we’d kayak under to know when to pull out of the river and where to park our vehicle. Hubby drove us over to the drop off point and we went into team work mode. He lowered all the kayaks, the girls collected the life jacket and oars, and I made the sandwiches and stuffed snacks and water bottles in the dry bags.
Next hubby drove to the pull out location and biked back the 8.5 miles to where we waited with the kayaks. A nearby playground helped us to pass the time. Hubs rejoined us and we were in the water by 2:00PM, about an hour later than we wanted to start. Knowing the trip estimated about four hours on the water, we wanted to exit while the day still had kept us warm.
Even with the sun shining, the air temperature a near perfect 65 degrees Fahrenheit, I can’t lie. I was nervous. We had four kayaks, and the girls had never kayaked rapids before. The woman who instructed us assured us that there was nothing over a class one rapid on this stretch of the river, but after my episode at High Falls State park, I knew the power of even the smallest looking rapid, and I just wanted us all to be safe.
But that’s the cool thing about kids. They are adventurous and mostly fearless. And their confidence tends to help them think quickly at a moment when a worrier like myself would probably freeze or panic. And the girls did great, coasting down each rapid with squeals of joy and minimum rocking. We took a few side stops to give each of the three oldest turns to paddle their own kayak, and Sarah, well, let’s just say she held that Cheetos bag like no other! Everyone has to do their part. After all.
Around 5:30PM, an evening breeze was picking up speed and the girls’ arms were growing weary. The waters were calm, and the mini-rapids were down to minor ripples. Everyone just wanted to locate that fifth bridge to assure us we were home free. And when we finally did, we each turned sharply left toward the steps up to the parking lot. There was our beloved RV waiting for us.
I couldn’t believe it. We had made it. Four hours on a river and no falls. No injuries. No problem. Until…
Just as hubby stepped out of his kayak, his boat wobbled and out tumbled Sarah, head first into the water, while Sun fell in too, right in front of her. I was still in my kayak, but before I could react, hubby scooped Sarah out of the water and and straightened her back up right. The water was only about four feet deep here, and he placed her little shivering body onto the steps. The girls who were already at the top of the steps asked, “Are you okay Sarah?” and began offering her towels and hugs and even carried her all the way back to to the RV.
Sarah didn’t even cry. She just explained like it was nothing. “I fell right in. My head went right into the water. But Daddy rescued me!”
During the commotion, one of our camp chairs fell out of the flipped kayak and was floating away.
“I’ll get it, Mommy. Can I swim and get it?” My second daughter offered and successfully retrieved the blue chair and swam back. We wrapped her up in the last dry towel.
As we packed up, loaded the kayaks, and made our trek back to our campsite, I couldn’t help but think about my jewels that accompanied me. My hubby and my four girls. So thankful that they were safe. And all in all, how much fun we had.
And then I thought about the treasures of infinite worth that I had collected that day. Witnessing the girls facing the rapids, paddling four hours without giving up until we were safe on the shore. Watching the older siblings lovingly help their baby sister after her tumble into the frigid water. And recalling how hubby scooped Sarah out of the water, into his arms, and placed her safely on dry ground.
These are the shiniest of treasures to me. The ones that I will put into my heart’s locker and carry with me along the way. To remind me of what matters most.
So what about you? Which rocks will you carry with you? What sparkling memories do you want to take with you?… And which ones should you skip into the nearest river to lighten your load?
Almost forgot. Wanted to give a shout to the WFR’s! WUZ UP?!?… A group of six teens training for the CIA. Well, a wilderness rescue crew, but close enough. We met them when we drove back to pick up the bikes. They were doing back tumbles in the lawn and loading up canoes with their fishing poles and a guitar. I guess one free hand planned to serenade the others as they practiced their skills. I promised them I’d write about them.
After I told them, “We’re from New York. But we’re not dangerous.” 🙂
We all laughed as they went their way, down the river, and we went ours—back to our campsite. Another day. Another adventure.
Come back Friday for Day THREE and our WATERFALL Extravaganza Hike! Come to find out that Sarah’s letter of the week is… drumroll please…”W!!!” For…
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