Lunch Rock

Above my old house about ½ mile is a rock that reaches 2/3 of the way across the river. We’ve always called it Lunch Rock, though we’ve only eaten lunch there once.

I’ve seen drunk teenagers tumble off it, pretty girls sitting strumming guitars and singing Bob Marley tunes, dogs leaping off to chase sticks, and many many Northern Watersnakes resting quietly in the shade. It's the only spot I can't ever attain past in my kayak heading upriver.

I’ve held my boys fingers as they lurch over the uneven surface. I’m sure many an Indian child was guided across this rock in the same way 500 years ago. We always take off our shoes and sit with feet in the water, feeling the powerful current and sometimes having black nose dace nibble our toes.

My oldest son knows the spot so well that when it's just barely in sight, he takes off running for the small path down to the water. We must, must stop and throw rocks. Long live Lunch Rock.