When we were first married, it wasn't unusual for us to get off work, skip dinner and get a quick run in on the river. Evening is so special there, especially in the middle of the week. The beaver, birds and deer come out after the rush and noise of the day, the sun sets and the river glows in the soft light. We would run the last few rapids at dusk and early dark. Years of paddling had imprinted the little details of the rapids in our minds and running at dark heightened the anticipation of feeling the rapids and responding to them. These were our dates. The river brought us together; it was our first bond.

A couple of years ago the flame rekindled itself once more as I realized that once Samuel, our youngest, was old enough, we would be able to get on the river together.

Kim has always used the river as a source of recreation and entertainment for the children. He gets out his kayak and pulls them around, playing at the river's edge and explaining the way an eddy works. And of course, he can skip stones for hours teaching them the fine art of getting past two skips.

Finally, after all the preparation, the big day came. There were a few false starts because we'd had so much rain, and it was important for the water level to be gentle and forgiving with our precious cargo aboard. However, we had planned well, making many preliminary trips to the river, finding the best place to camp and even letting the children play on the inflated raft in the yard so they would be comfortable with the feel of it.

We had decided that if the level were right, we would go directly to the river after Sunday school. The water was a little higher than we liked, but certainly within the predetermined comfortable range. I cannot describe to you the contentment of that afternoon even though nothing spectacular happened. Our oldest son Ben claimed the entire front of the boat. Actually none of us wanted to get near his paddle. He oozed excitement. I am surprised he stayed in the boat. Becky, our six-year-old, looked like a miniature professional river guide, with her brownish-blonde curls pulled through the opening in the back of her cap. She was a natural. Kim would tell her she could stop paddling and take a break but she kept going. And whenever Kim, Ben or I took a break or began to paddle half-heartedly, we'd hear Becky yelling, "Keep paddling."

Buying our raft and camping gear was an investment in our family, and our experience on the river that day reaffirmed our belief that it was the right thing for us to do. Many people reminisce about when their children were infants. I think I just endured that part of my life while dreaming of the adventures we would share during their youth. The fun has just begun.

The Castos live near the New River in Xxxxxxxxxxxx, Xxxxxxxxxxxx. Aggie writes that Ben (nine), Rebecca (seven) and Samuel (five) continue to enjoy the family river raft trips.
 

To My Mother (At Georgia's Birth) While I lay captive to the ebb and flow, my child still a secret pearl inside me, you held my hand and moved your fingers like rose petals over mine For those moments, with my eyes closed, I became your little girl again, needing only your comfort, finding safety in your presence When the pain rose like a tidal wave you released me, as a mother should, and watched me gather power and summon my entire self to deliver a child a daughter whose hand I will hold securely whose hand I will stroke with the gentleness I have known Cheryl Racanelli