Brainerd, MN – September 16, 2012
There’s a line along the banks, thin and gray, between fresh grass on the ground and the first leaves hanging in the trees. It’s a gap of mud coated trunks and branches stripped clean. It’s sharp and straight, like a single swipe from a razor.
In narrow places, the line rises high above my head and I crane my neck to look at it. When the river widens it drops down low, close to the bank, but never disappears.
It’s hard to imagine the water that high, not when my boat scrapes the bottom in places. But people along the bank swear it. Biggest flood in 40 years, they say.They raise their arms above their heads and tell me I should have been here a few months ago.
I look at the line and laugh.
“No,” I think. “No I shouldn’t have.”