I began rummaging through the messy contents in my old memory chest, looking for a specific item. I had just picked out a pamphlet in my mind that I had recently placed in this box a few months before.
My hand caught on a thick sheet of paper. Almost certain that I had found it, I tentatively pulled the sheet out of the deep trenches of the casket to find a gray pamphlet, entitled “Flume Gorge, New Hampshire.” Smiling widely, I opened the leaflet to read the first few lines of information as last June rushed into my mind.
As soon as the last bell rang on June 8, 2023, I was beyond relieved and elated. I had finally finished the dreaded freshman year of high school. I had a packed schedule of nearly three months of relaxation to look forward to, and I couldn’t have been happier at that moment. I was mostly anticipating a breezy nine days on the East Coast, planned for late June. I had spent a couple months detailing the schedule for the trip—I am the avid trip planner in my family—which included everything from modern restaurants to whale watching tours, as well as a timeline down to the minute.
Fast forward to June 30, 2023. It was a beautifully clear day in Lincoln, New Hampshire, and I was getting extremely frustrated because my parents and I couldn’t find the proper entrance to the gorge, like the typical tourists we were. It took us twenty minutes to finally figure out that the entrance was on a slim, unpaved road with a measly sign right off a highway exit.
Once we got our tickets paid for and had walked through the visitor center, a rocky path awaited us. I, of course, hadn’t realized that this would be a two-mile hike, so I had worn my favorite embroidered Converse. Sighing in disappointment, I proceeded to begin the hike, completely expecting to hate the entire experience.
As I walked, still overcome by my foolish mistake, I noticed a large clearing in the distance. Deciding to take a closer look, I jogged up to the trailhead.
To say I was astonished was an absolute understatement.
Before me was one of those sleek, red-rock waterfalls I would usually see in some type of nature documentary on television. It was surrounded by countless evergreen trees swaying in the wind, a perfect complement to the feat of nature before me. Double-checking the sign displayed next to the fence, I was shocked to see that this wasn’t even the main highlight of the hike.
From then on that day, it’s safe to say that my mood was much more exuberant. After my parents had caught up with me, I practically skipped for the rest of the hike, all the way up to the main attraction.
As we got closer and closer to the gorge, a roaring sound began to fill my ears. Turning the corner, a massive waterfall stood in front of us, with rickety wooden stairs slick with spring water. My jaw dropped at the sheer magnificence of the waterfall and the gorge. I had never seen anything like it in my whole life.
The air was crisp with the refreshing scent of the fierce waterway, paired wonderfully with the vibrant sun rays reflecting off the mist in the breeze. A shy rainbow formed by the combination of the sun and the mist arched over the falls in a perfect semicircle. It was like a scene plucked straight out of a movie.
Still clutching the pamphlet tightly in my hand, I continue to read the pages while reminiscing, now eager to see what other joyful memories await me in my casket of trinkets.
