Last week, Bob and I took Ella and our niece Celia to Dillsboro, North Carolina. We’ve been going there for years to visit family. Bob’s favorite part of our time in NC is making the scenic drive over the mountain into Tennessee to Cade’s Cove. This year when we arrived, we noticed too late that the loop was closed to cars each Wednesday. We could not drive through. It’s the day reserved for biking. No problem, Bob said. We’ll rent bikes. Except we arrived thirty minutes after the last rental time. No problem, Bob said. We will walk. Unconvinced and unprepared, we began to hike. I’ve always considered myself a rule follower, but apparently, I’m not. I violated every rule of motherhood. We entered through the exit side of the loop going against the bikers. We weren’t planning on going too far, so I only had my I Phone and a Diet Pepsi. The girls had a bottle of water and each other. Bob had his unwavering enthusiasm for this adventure. We hiked for three hours. Three bears, two deer, four turkeys, a lonely elk, and a bunch of (not so wild) horses later, and I was done. Do you know what it is like to see me hike and see a bear? It’s fascinating. Back in Dillsboro, we also went kayaking down our beloved Tuckasegee River. While Ella and Celia decided to share a double ducky, Bob and I had the pleasure of watching them. They are really more like sisters than cousins. I had wanted another child after Ella but was advised against it. By Bob. God gave me Celia who completes our happy family on all road trips. While I listened to these two girls alternate between laughing and screaming at each other, I suddenly remembered another time I was on the river with Celia’s mom. Two years ago, my younger sister Amy and I stared nervously at our newly rented double kayak. The original plan for a relaxing float with our husbands was abandoned. Our sweet men informed us that this time the sisters would ride together. Resigned to this unexpected fate, Amy laughed, “How hard can this be?” Neither of us were strangers to adventure or hard work. Inspired by Amy’s optimism, I convinced myself I could handle it, even though I knew nothing about navigating or rowing through class two and three rapids. These were the things our husbands always did for us. Amy’s smile was as bright as the sparkly diamonds on her manicured hands. She straightened her visor with determination, adjusted her strapless bathing suit with confidence, and gracefully eased her blond ponytail into the front of our little vessel without even a splash. Leaning back at me, Amy said, “Your turn, Jo. Come on. God must want us to have an opportunity to bond. At least it’s not going to rain.” Feeling nervous as I watched our guys disappear ahead of us, I clumsily pushed off, falling into my spot, bringing in a seat full of really cold river water. I offered up silent prayers that those dark July clouds would not develop into afternoon storms. At first, we giggled as we floated backward, hitting rock after hidden rock. As we struggled to redefine our version of teamwork, we managed to fall behind the others. It takes a moment to push free when you get stuck that many times. Amy and I refused to panic when rain began to gently fall. My sweet, helpful sister diligently pointed out each rock just before we hit it. Evaluating the situation, she suggested we synchronize our rowing, yelling left, right, left, right. We rowed into yet another circle. Eventually the torrential rains stung us as a thick fog enveloped our kayak. There was no more talk of work, gossip, bills, or kids. No complaining and no witty banter. We began to do what we have always done in times of crisis; we took care of each other, one obstacle at a time. Exhausted and drenched, we let the river finally carry us to our landing. As I pulled Amy and the kayak to shore, Amy handed me her paddle. Once again, she straightened her visor. Wiping mascara from her face, she grinned, “I love you, sister.” The stunning smile vanished as she turned to go speak with her husband, who was laughing with Bob. I knew exactly what she was going to say to him when she found him. Kinda like what I said to Bob when we spotted the bear on our hike.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Details
JoAnna Arnold
|