There’s a little blue house that sits right where the rainbow river turns from salt water to fresh water. Spanish moss hangs tightly from the oak trees with branches reaching out in every direction — birds and squirrels nestling themselves where the twigs connect. Little wildflowers peek their buds from under the poorly painted base boards as people are cruising along the low wake river bend in their outdated pontoon boats and orange kayaks. Occasionally, a voice will holler as they fall off a paddle board and they wade themselves back to shore, making sure not to cross to the side where the gators veer towards their next meal. the glossy stream will shatter as a child cannon balls off the stern of the boat. Big dogs assert their dominance on the bows, sticking their snouts high in the air and little dogs pant as they entangle themselves in women with big glasses’ arms. the sounds of broken wakes, and vivacious laughter will slowly silence, leaving a glistening stillness on the river glass that was broken just a few hours before. as the sun dispels into many stars and the sky is smothered in soot, the smell of burning firewood entrenches the friends that gather around the camp fire. The marshmallows drip onto the softening chocolate as the crickets sing their faint lullabies from across the river. Locals, vacationers, families, couples, the glowing feeling of toasted skin and heavy eyes from the fishermen. tomorrow’s sunrise will be met with sandy doorways, and strung up towels that are almost dry from the day before.