There’s always been something about streams that has affected me.  Growing up in the suburbs my favorite thing to do was walk and explore the stream that ran behind my neighbor’s house. It was a trickle of water that has since dried up, but to me it was an adventure. I would even explore the streams in my friend’s neighborhood, much to the horror of her mother when we would come back inside covered in mud.

Personally, I would prefer to be on the water than anywhere else. Today as I walked down white clay creek I was reminded of growing up and how I saw rivers through innocent child eyes. The sounds and smells and feeling then have stayed consistent to how I saw the river today, even though I have changed.

The first thing I noticed when I sat on a rocky peninsula in the river was the sound of locusts.  It starts with just one hum and just as suddenly the sound erupts into a chorus. For a moment the sound is deafening before it fades off again, the same way it started. It reminds me of summer, and even though the stress of school starting again, maybe transferring and figuring out what I want to major in has riddle my thoughts this week I am reminded that it is still summer. And I start to focus on the details of my surroundings rather than the stress I’ve felt.

Everything is green and alive and active. Some people talk of peace in the woods, but today I only experience movement. Everything is sporadic and moving to its own pace. Yet, it meshes together; one moving part to the next, and they fit like puzzle pieces. The warm afternoon sun reflects off the water as it tumbles over rapids on its journey south. The peninsula I sit on is rocky but green plant and grass fight their way through the damp rough terrain. To my right a small creek flows off the land, the water is quieter here then the rapid filled river to my left, but the insects are louder. In the brush that grows around the small creak on the riverbank I can hear crickets, locus and things I cant even begin to guess. The sounds fade back and forth to each other. As I look more in that direction I can see a small black insect standing on the water tension moving his body spastically as if he’s not quite sure where he wants to go. Where this little creek starts to merge into the larger river is a tree that has it roots dug into the sand and water. The roots are exposed and form caverns and caves that a large purplish dragonfly explores. She pauses at certain spots and then moves to the next room.

As I leave white clay I walk through the water, it’s refreshing on a hot day like this. Looking down stream I can’t see much farther before a bend and dense greenery obstruct my view. Looking upstream, on the concrete waterfall there are groups of people floating in tubes. As I step out of the river, the sand comforts my bare feet. I reflect on what I’ve been going through these past two weeks since being back at Delaware. I’m finally more at ease that all this stress will eventually lead me somewhere. Like the scene I just experienced everything is moving and active now and it seems chaotic, but eventually it will fit together.  I’m starting to realize that it’s important to stop and experience your surroundings and its something I have missed out on these past two weeks. Sitting on the riverside, even though I wouldn’t exactly call it peaceful helped me find a little more peace within the chaos.