The Parker River
On a blazing hot summer morning, the noise of flat bottom boats racing on the water and various neighbors yelling crude words wakes me up. Walking outside the smell of musty river water enters my nose as I took in a breath of fresh air. The sight of my dogs chasing each other like 2 high-speed bunny rabbits hopping around in a continuous circle wasn’t anything unordinary. Walking over to the immense grey dock, I look over the choppy, greenish-blue water and see all of the wake boarders’ struggling to hang on to their ropes, and falling down the river like unstable dominoes. While I sit down at the edge of the warm dock, my feet touch the icy cold water a chill rushes through my body. Looking straight ahead I can see the rocky mountain range; the sun peeking through the tops; the dusty mess escaping in to the wind and all of the dirt bikers doing crazy tricks.
Along the water mounds of people in inflatable inner tubes pass through the water, getting as red as lobsters and not caring about the risk of getting sun burnt. The smell of strong gasoline now enters my lungs; our neighbors getting ready to put in some jet skis in the water and my step dad filling up the boat. I then eavesdrop on a chatting couple passing the dock stand up paddle boarding hoping that the floating group will not allow them to fall off their boards. Now the warm sun nearly bakes me as I sit and observe. The wake of the water splashes my feet as huge pontoon boats slowly and carefully make their way across the river; carrying large groups of people partying. I take one last deep breath in and taste the heavily polluted water in the air, as I stand up I step in to the cold, freshly watered grass, which is drying up very quickly. The 112◦ weather cooking up my insides makes me sweat as if I just got out of the water from wakeboarding. I sprint as fast as I can from the grass and dive into the cool water and remember why I visit here so much.
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