Finding A Quiet Place

 

We all have a need for solace, to get away from the routine of life, seek out spirit. For me, I tromp down to the sandy shore or stroll through a nearby park, wade through a stream on the side of the road. There’s this quiet little hidden waterhole tucked away at the state park. You get to it through a little cut-away of pines and shrubs, down some rough-hewn steps. It’s about ten feet down the embankment and invisible to anyone up above at the picnic area. You take the last step and your feet hit red dirt, look behind you and there’s water, a narrow shore of deep red sand, some fallen trees to rest against, and from this view you can gaze across to layers of rock, sand, and embedded trees from when the creek was higher before the civilization around it deprived it of much of its water. It’s a beautiful, quiet place. I’ve been there once, but never alone. This weekend, I plan to hop in the car and drive the thirty minutes down Carolina Beach Rd and cut off at River Rd. Reach the State Park, descend the steps and sit with a journal, a lunch, and a book or two. Just me and the creek and maybe a bird or insect who wants to fellowship with nature too.

 

Finding A Quiet Place © 2011 Sarah Scott. Follow Sarah for more prose and stories—click here. Image: Readers Bench, 2011 B and D Lewis

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