From Cabin to Disco Fever

It was time to step out of the shadows of the current situations dominating my life.  A stint of ill health and collapsing finances has left me drained; it’s a drag, a bummer.  Enough already-today was made for creek exploration, butterfly patrol, fish studies, and Brou romps.  With as much caution as I could muster, I made my way down Valley Road to my favorite inspiration spot along Big Sewickley Creek.  The path was densely overgrown, but just visible enough to plow through.  I fought my way down the home stretch, down the bank, between the wild rose thorns to the late summer calm of the Realm of The Creek. 

My first mission was to bag a monster crayfish.  Good fortune prevailed and I had only to overturn a single rock to flush out a grandfatherly crawdad.  There he was, pincers arced back toward my thumb and forefinger, ready to counter my flaming vise maneuver.  But he underestimated my prowess, and was no match for my lightning reflexes.  I whisked him out of the water and proudly displayed my catch for Brou.  He sniffed wide-eyed at it, as he always does, then snorted and jerked backwards, as he always does.  His antics amused me, as they always do.  It reminded me how lucky I was to have a large, water-loving dogfriend to accompany me on these adventures.  I turned the crayfish round and round, made note of his size, colours, markings, and claws, and released him to find his new hidey-hole, where he could recover from the embarrassment of being snagged by a human.

The water was low from a dry, hot, extended summer.  That allowed me greater access to the deeper parts and pools where the big fish swim along their beat.  A swallowtail butterfly trailed along behind us, then lurched ahead and landed next to me on the rocks.  The sun peeked out from a passing puff cloud and lit up the iridescent blue of its wing tips.  Blue dragonflies hovered just out of reach, curious about us.  In the shaded, underwater tree roots on the opposite bank, there were several larger fish-trout, carp, catfish.  I watched them as they drifted down the current and wriggled back up against it.  Sometimes they came up to the surface to grab a snack and left rippling rings that made psychedelic waves of light dance across the nearby sycamores above the pool.  It was astounding, a natural disco ball.  The reflections climbed up the towering tree trunks clear up to the vivid green canopy, then cascaded back down like electrified snowflakes.  It was truly breathtaking, the most beautiful visual gift I’d been given in a long time.  When the sun faded into cloud shadow and the show ended, I thanked whatever power granted that event to me and picked my way downstream.  I searched for glass bits and odd rocks and such treasures in the middle of the creek, in areas I did not usually have access to.  I gave all my focus to the water world around my feet.  I found some trinkets to add to my collection.  I walked along the smooth rocks, followed schools of minnows and upended some stones in hunt of creatures.

I made it to my base point, a rocky shore full of flat skipping stones.  For anyone who may not know, I am a skilled stone skip artist.  I selected a handful of the best skippers and went to the swimming hole, tranquil and still.  I loosened up my throwing arm.  Brou took notice and stood at the ready, prepared to give chase.  I flicked my first stone and sent it skimming across the surface-one..two..three….four, five, six, seveneightninetten plop.  Brou tore after it and swam to the last place he saw it hit the water.  He never does find the rock, but he sure loves the game of chase.  I hurled the rest of the rocks along the water’s surface, and Brou pursued every one.  He swam back with his big puppy boy grin.

The sun was unleashed from cloud cover for a good while and warmed my face, my arms, my neck.  I stood on the shore and had a passing thought.  I let the thought manifest into a decision-a decision to live, if but for a short time, in total freedom.  I took off my top and crept shyly into the deeper water.  I let my shorts, ratty old things they are, get submerged without a care about any of it.  I stood in the water up to my bra, I stood in the bright sunshine, eyes closed, seeing the shimmer of light and waves behind the lids.  I stood and listened to bird calls and insect chirrups and far away cars and wind in the trees, listened to Brou breathing and paddling around me in circles.  I opened my eyes to deeply blue skies and vibrant green sycamores and yellow late summer leaves drifting down upon the water.  I saw life happening all around me, all at once.  I let the cold water creep up my spine as I leaned back to expose my face to the full sun.  Just then, Brou sprang into the water behind me and splashed my entire back.  It was a sudden, but pleasant shock that snapped me out of my daydream.  I had to laugh, so I did, and then I got my revenge and pushed a tidal wave of water at him.  He took it full in the face and shook vigorously, spraying me once again.  So I splashed again, and he jumped in again, and our water battle raged on until we were both thoroughly soaked to the skin.  We called a truce and calmed down.  A shadow passed over us, and I looked up to see a crow circling over us.  I watched a grey and white billowing cloud overtake the warmth and felt the chill of summer’s end, yet I took my time getting out of the water, savoring every second.  I donned my shirt and stared at the churned up pool, felt the changing of the seasons deep down.  No harm had been done; no one saw my private moment of nature communing.  It was time to head ashore, find a comfy spot in the park to dry off and record these wondrous events. 

And here I am, sitting in the cool shade while leaves tumble down on the warm winds and clouds play tag with the sun.  Brou lies next to me, relaxed, happy, in his little doggie world.  I feel the water dripping and drying off my shorts and wear a sheepish grin, knowing what I did just an hour ago while the rest of humanity went about its business.  It is a joy to be rid of worry, doubt, and fear, if even for a few glorious hours of a late summer’s morning. 

I think as long as I know I can still have days like this to look forward to or back on, I will be okay.  I tasted freedom, and now I’m opened to finding the positive in even my tougher situations.  I feel grateful for the people who are helping me along this stony path, for the comforting arms of those who love me and who I love.  I feel grateful for the gift of life, in all its forms and mutations, for all its twists and dramas.  I share these days, because they are universal in what they invoke in all of us-connection, simplicity, magic, the will to go on.  Go, and walk with peace in your heart.

Love and Light,

Tanya Y. Waschak