Down by the river

On Sunday the boys and I headed down to the Mississippi for a stroll. Eli and Theo were sporting their rain boots and were thrilled to test the depth of the many puddles along the river road. Then we decided to go off-road. We threaded our way down a small path off of Jefferson- the same path I often took with my grandparents 35 years ago on beautiful spring days. They would lead us down to the river where we would scratch our names into the sandstone and throw rocks into the river. The boys and I treaded carefully down the soggy path- following the same route as the trickling water from the snow melt. At the bottom Eli and I threw some rocks, scratched our names in the sandstone using the harder chunks of limestone that were scattered on the path. Theo was only interested in scurrying around collecting what he called fossil. I didn't really believe that he was so easily unearthing anything fossil-like, but upon a close inspection of his goods, sure enough the rocks he had collected were chock full of sea creature fossils from millions of years ago. He quietly filled up the pockets of his jacket, then his pants. While we carefully picked our way back up to street level I turned around to see why Theo was taking so long. There he was 100 yards back, bent over his latest find. I watched him straighten up, force a rock bigger than his hand into his pocket and start a little jog to catch up. As he ran up the path his pants were forced south by the loads in his pockets. Every few steps he had to stop and adjust, but never did a complaint come out of his mouth. I didn't have a camera so I had to just capture the image in my heart.