Lofton Creek and a Precious New Memory

My girlfriend Rebecca and I took a long-planned trip to Amelia Island this morning, something we've wanted to do for some time. We launched the kayaks at Lofton Creek just after 9:30 under a partly sunny sky with a balmy breeze rippling the water. We paddled an easy going stride, soaking in the lush green of vegetation along the creek banks. Bird song rang out from among the tall pines, cypress and oak trees. Wild hybiscus, morning glory and iris painted a Monet-like setting for our eyes only, the only noise the gentle breeze rustling the wild grasses and the drip from our kayak paddles as we slipped through the murky water dotted with ancient tree limbs. The sun dimmed behind clouds and the sky took on a pearlescent tint as a hawk circled above us. Eventually the creek narrowed and became precarious, practically closed off by fallen tree limbs so we turned around to head back the way we'd come when thunder caused my curious gaze skyward. Small delicate droplets of rain began to sprinkle themselves on the water, like invisible fingers playing invisible piano keys. We paddled casually to the shelter of a nearby tree and then we were able to carry on. As we approached our landing, the rain pelted harder like the crescendo of an opera. We sought shelter this time under the bridge we launched by a couple hours earlier. It was like a quiet dark cave, save for the sound of trucks and cars passing over our heads. We let our kayaks rest side by side under our little hide-away and laid our paddles down, the noses of our 'yaks tucked into the bridge pilings so wouldn't coast away. There we sat, content for a few moments, wondering how long the shower would last but not really caring. It was an opportunity to share the mutual love we have, the simple pleasures found in nature. We'd photographed butterflies, cardinals, creekbeds dotted with wilf flowers; we'd heard birdsong, water rippling against shore, and quiet thunder. It was pure and it was simple and it was sweet.

After just a few moments, the rain stopped and we paddled on to the landing. There we enjoyed a picnic lunch sitting across from each other at a small picnic table and spoke of great, old memories we've made together over the last 25 years.

There's something very precious about spending a day like that, with a person you love a lot. I hope it's something we'll be talking about 25 years from now. We'll still be best friends, but we'll have even more memories to treasure.