Churning fifty-degree water
It howls louder as the it rolls and bubbles
Its eyes taunt you from below and beyond
Daring you to continue your watery trek
“Front paddle – front paddle.”
The command must be yelled to be heard
The white liquid hits me
Cold and invigorating
Life affirming
The water echoes louder within the red canyon walls
A Golden Eagle sits on her nest above
The fawns watch us from the green of the bank
Cliff Swallows circle above our heads
“Colter Falls is just ahead,” our guide screams from behind
“It’s a five foot drop and we’ll hit it head on.”
I tell my six year old to hang on to the rope by his side
He glanced back at me with a “Mom, stop being a Mom” look
“It’s only a five foot drop, Mom,” he shouted back
I’m paddling with both hands as the water rises in volume
“Son, I’m only five foot two!” I yelled to his over confident figure
The realization struck him instantly
And with it, his eyes became as big as planets
“Oh crap! Then it’s as big as you!”
“That’s kind of why I told you to hang on!” I screamed right before the next command
“Stop paddling and hang on,” the guide shouts just before the wave hits
Down, falling ever downward
While the water soars upward
It strikes my sons first and then flies over their heads
Right down the top of my life jacked
An icy cold drenching under the intense heat of a Wyoming sun
A breathtaking combination
The water throws us back to the original level
All of this happened in a blink of an eye
Such a rush in so short a period of time
“Back paddle – back paddle!”
I heard the order and obeyed
The water slowed as I tried to regain my breath
The sound of my son’s laughter rose above the gurgling of the rapids
An exquisite memory formed within me
Locked in my heart for an eternity
For there are no more precious of sounds
Then the giggling of my sons
And the roar of rushing white water