When I was a little girl, maybe 10 years old, my dad took
our family camping at Sam Rayburn with some of our family’s friends. The spot we chose to stay for the night was
just below the Dam. I was a day dreamer
and explorer. I soon discovered the huge
pile of rocks at one end of our site, and at the other, a maze of gullies that
you could walk in and not see the top or the end unless of course you climbed
out. I thought of them as canyons and
probably explored every inch. We did not
ask permission because our mother would have said no (she would have been
unable to see us). The same with the
rock pile. It must be dangerous in some
way. I remember thinking about going to
the top and sliding down the side. We
would need a garbage lid or mat of some kind.
Not sure if we ever followed through with that. We should have been on the lookout for
snakes, but it faintly crossed our minds.
I remember standing on the banks watching the rushing water as it left
the dam locks. My dad and the other man helped
us fish. I learned to cast way out and reel
the line back in. I did not catch
anything. My dad must have helped me
learn this skill. I remember he was
worried about losing the rod and reel if I did not hold on to it when I
cast. I remember trying to stay away
from the edge of the bank and not fall in.
It was a long drop into that water.
Oh I could swim all right, but that water terrified me because it was so
fast and deep. Mom and Dad or someone
told us not to go there alone. I
remember that.
I suppose it was the adventurer in me. I went back to the bank looking for
everyone. No one was around. I really wanted to see if I could cast again
and catch a fish this time. I wanted Dad
to be proud of me. I picked up the rod and cast it. It went clear to the other
side of the river. It was amazing! As suddenly as the line hit the water, there
was a heavy tug that almost made me lose my balance. Before I had time to process this, a huge
fish jumped out of the water and back in.
I had one, I had one!
Unbelievable! However, I could
not get it reeled in, the fish was pulling me in. I yelled for help and no one came. A moment of truth hit me. Either I am going to go into that terrifying
water or I am going to lose the rod and reel.
Either way, I am dead -- face my parent’s wrath or hold on and hope for
the best. I was terrified of my father’s
wrath and disappointment more than anything, so I was probably going to end up
in the water. That was a long drop into
a wet oblivion. About that time, the
line snapped and I fell backwards. Whew!
I backed away and put the rod down where I found it. Maybe someone can fix the line when they
notice it was broke, but I will never tell.
I was in a different mood after that, I was afraid to explore the
canyons, climb the rock pile, be around my dad and mom, and afraid to go near
the river. I realized that even though
I yelled for help, no one came. I
wondered where my sister and brother were.
Were they safe, were they staying away from the river? I thought about how sad everyone would feel
if I had died. What a burden for a 10
year old. That is not the first time I
almost drowned. Looking back, God must
have had different plans for me.
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| Recent rains in Nacogdoches have started a little creek and gully in our yard. |
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