Rivers

Growing up in Natick, I spent a lot of time playing in the woods behind my house. My best friend and I were constantly making forts. These forts were constructed out of branches, naturally grown “walls” of vegetation, and our imaginations. Our pride and joy was called “Dry River Fort”, due to its location next to a small stream which, as the name suggests, was more often than not without water.

One of my favorite places at Kenyon College was the old railway bridge over the Kokosing river. The train line has now been converted into a bike path, but the rusty iron bridge remains. I often went to this bridge, biking or walking along the river to get there. Sometimes I went alone, but usually I went with friends. We sat and talked, or just quietly observed the slowly passing, green-brown water, our feet dangling over the edge of the bridge.

Now I spend my time by the Charles River, here in Boston. I bike along the Charles four days a week on my way to and from class. On the weekends, when it’s warm, I read on the grass of the Esplanade, admittedly distracted by the sailboats and the ripples on the water.

I like to think that a river will be a constant in my life. Although I am not far from Natick, having it nearby helps me feel at home.