It isn’t long before the path is lost completely and we are hiking over boulders and rocks. Sometimes we walk right over the creek and watch the water find it’s way around rocks through cracks between rocks two or three feet below us. The walk is much steeper here and both of us are breathing hard and covered with sweat when we realize we have reached our destination. At the base of a rock mountain the creek ends. Water seeps out of the rocks on each side of us and over our heads. Ferns and grasses cling to any surface that is not rock and green moss covers most of the rock’s surface. The air is filled with moisture and it’s almost like a light rain when we get close to the mountain. We find a huge rock that reaches up high enough to be just damp and not completely wet. We push and pull each other until we reach the dome of the rock. Sally watches until she understands what we are trying to do and then she runs off, not wanting any part of it.
“Nice,” is all Ricky has to say as he pulls off his shirt and shoes and lies down on the slightly curved top of the rock.
I sit cross legged and look back at the creek seeing it’s green path all the way back to our town. “It’s like our town came for a drink.”
Ricky rolls over onto his side to see. He follows the curves of the creek just like I did, “You think this creek is why the whole town is there?” he asks.
“Got to be one of the reasons,” I guess.
“Funny,” he says and lays back down looking at the sky.
“What’s so funny,” I ask when it becomes clear he’s just going to go to sleep.
“I thought it was just a place for the pollywogs to live. It never occurred to me that we were like the pollywogs.”
With that I decide it might be better if Ricky does sleep a little so I quit asking him questions and just sit in silence broken only by the sound of water and enjoy the view that only changes when small birds come to drink or when the breeze moves the white clouds above our heads.