The waterfall

I'd been hiking for about three hours when I came upon the waterfall; it was a narrow cascade, no more than five feet across, dropping straight and true for more than a hundred feet into a small, almost perfectly round, pool of water. The lake, no, really it was almost small enough to be called a pond, was dark greenish blue and looked deep. The water was gloriously clear and I knew it would be cold, but that was fine by me.

I took off my shoes and socks and tested the water: icy cold. So I pulled my t-shirt over my head, stripped off my jeans, and shucked off my underwear. There was no one here, no one for miles, and I didn't fancy hiking the rest of the way in damp undergarments. I waded in, surprised at the shallowness. I stood under the waterfall, arms raised to the sky, letting the water soak my hair and massage my skin as it swept all my cares away.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel


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