Every Natural Fact. Amy Lou Jenkins
boulder across from the tamarack swamp.
The Long Slide Falls sign warned “Dangerous Overlook” as we entered a parking lot of sparse gravel and grasses. We scanned the perimeter of the lot and didn’t see a trail but heard the muffled tumult of falling water behind a forest that bulged over the edges of the clearing and obscured any openings into the woods.
By searching the soil in the direction of the distant clamor, we found a tan stripe in the edge of the woodland floor that served as the trail to the falls. I pushed away a cedar branch and looked back at my son who reached forward to hold the bough doorway open. His hand was in sync to push back the limb so we could have continued in a seamless stride through the obstruction. Instead, I stopped, turned, and looked at his sun-bronzed face. I’d kissed and hugged him when he appeared as soon as I stepped out of the van at the Scout campground, but I’d been so busy with reunion shopping, cooking, and catching up with the relatives that I hadn’t looked at him. We hadn’t talked much because he’d been eager to listen to his iPod—a forbidden electronic device at Scout camp. He liked camp but hadn’t told me much more than that.
“What?” he asked, wondering why I wasn’t moving.
We stood holding the arm of the same tree at a welcoming threshold amidst the fresh scent of cedar. “Thanks for coming with me. I always wanted to see the waterfalls.”
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