Indian River Final
Indian River“Mary!! Come on we were supposed to leave an hour ago!” My mother bellowed up the stairs.“I’m coming! Silly you for thinking we would leave on time” I mumbled“What was that?!” She shrieked “Nothing!”“Get down here, your father is already waiting in the car”“Alright mother!” Finally we were all stuffed in the truck and on our way to Indian River, a small town in northern Michigan covered in thick forests and snaking rivers.  I woke up with my head bashing against the side of the door as the truck maneuvered its way over a seasonal road, a road that is closed when the snow gets too high in the winter. I pulled myself up to the window and stuck my head out, the smell of pine trees and earth overwhelmed my senses. “Morning sleeping beauty” My dad grinned, looking at me in the rear view mirror“We’re finally here!” I pulled my head back into the truck and scooted onto the middle seat. “Is everyone already here?” “Yep, we’re the last to arrive” Mom answered, hanging her hand out the window.  We pulled onto a sandy drive and parked next to a tan suburban, the little cabin standing in the distance. I climbed out of the truck and hot summer sun stung my face as I weaved between the trees, making my way to the cabin. Sandy soil shifted under my feet and I picked up a knotted log and tossed it into the fire pit, it landed with a soft thud onto a pile of ashes built up from countless fires. “Mary! You’re going to be on the top right bunk, toss all of your stuff up there.” My mom called. I nodded and continued into the cabin.
I pulled open the flaking gray door and scanned the small one room cabin. From floor to ceiling beautiful pine covers every inch and gas lamps are mounted on the walls. The electric ghost that hummed relentlessly at home was gone and all I could hear were the pine trees whispering and the river babbling. A cool breeze ruffled my hair as I tossed my bags onto the top bunk. Four bunk beds were built onto the walls all decorating with matching forest green comforters and inviting fluffy pillows. A tall pine table stood near the kitchen area, which was equipped with an old fashion gas stove and sink (no water however). I walked out the back door and stood on the deck, the ground below me plunged, jagged and rough it exploded into the river below. Suddenly something caught my eye, a slight movement in the trees next to the deck then, out of nowhere, my best friend tackles me. “Took you guys long enough to get here” he choked as he pulled me into a headlock. “You should never expect us to be on time, after twenty years you haven’t learned that? Someone’s a little slow!” I wriggled out of his hold and ran over to the fire pit. The “adults” (being in our twenties we were still considered the kids) had gathered around the fire, the cracking of their beers pierced the air and made my mouth water, and started the usual “well how was your ride?  “Mine was good, except people drive like jackasses around here” blah blah blah. The thought of crispy hot dogs wandered into my mind while stared at the hot coals.