Witness to my Freedom

Near the town I where I grew up, there was a river. It was and still is a beautiful, glorious river that reaches throughout most of the northeast corner of the state. My childhood experience with this particular river came mainly from tagging along on swimming trips with a friend and her family. Her grandparents owned a large chunk of land for farming but the back part of the land was forested and nestled on the riverside. It was always cool there, even in the humidity of July. If the humidity did permeate the trip, you would just take a dip in the cool waters of the river for instant relief.

Now, I was a fearful child and though I loved swimming, the idea of wild crawfish grabbing at my toes with their claws would sometimes get the better of me and I would bow out of a dip in the river. The bottom of the river was made of clay, where the crawfish liked to burrow. If you stepped on one under the clay, it would come out and defend itself against the giant crushing its home. These were the moments I shied away from.  Usually, however, my friend would assault me with insults until shame won out over fear and I joined her in the river. 

Going there as an adult was a different experience. I was still slightly concerned about the crawfish, but realized that they wouldn’t actually hurt me. Also,  after living in a bigger city where there were more sidewalks, roads and parking lots than trees, it was refreshing to be out in the woods and swimming in the exhilaratingly cool waters of the river. Whenever I visited my friend in the warmer months, she planned a trip to the river with her family, husband, children, and dog in tow. I looked forward to these retreats and was always ready for a day of relaxation, swimming, and good food.

On one particular visit to the river my friend and I went alone. She wanted to see how much the river had risen with the last rain, so we were just going down there to check out the river. Once we got to the river, the urge to swim in the fresh water was overwhelming, but since we had not planned on swimming, neither of us had a swimming suit along. Being the more impulsive of the two of us, my friend suggested we go skinny-dipping. She said it was the best feeling in the world to be nakies in the water. Fear and excitement rippled through me. I had not been naked outside since I was a little kid. I mean, come on, I still called being naked “nakies”. 

Contemplating my options, I thought about all the years I had been going to the river with my friend and her family. In all of those years I had never, ever seen any other people. My skin prickled with anticipation as I undressed. When every inch of my skin was open to the country air, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It was the most free I have ever felt. 

I carefully made my way down the slippery, clay bank of the river. It was quite high above the river, maybe 50 feet and steep. It was also mostly clay so I slid. Being naked, I was especially careful not to fall as that could have resulted in twigs, leaves, and clay entering parts of my body that should remain hidden. As I reached the bottom of the riverbank, I dipped a toe in the water. It was cool, but not cold. I rushed in and plunged my head under the water. 

The cool water of the river flowing against my body, caressing every inch of my nakedness felt wonderful. I could have stayed there forever. I began swimming downriver following my friend until we eventually reached a shallow spot. I did the crab-crawl for a bit, but eventually I was just crawling on my hands and knees. I stood up and without any thought to my nakedness. It was just me communing with nature in my most natural form. 

I began walking down the sandbar. The birds sang in the trees. I looked up to see the sunshine break through the canopy of trees and felt it caress my body with its warmth. I followed my friend to a curve in the river, with slight trepidation at not knowing what was around the corner. Just as this thought crossed my mind, a small rowboat carrying two old men appeared at the curve! 

I was in total shock and disbelief. There was absolutely no fucking way in all of the infiniverse that the one time I ever went skinny-dipping in my entire life, and in a place where no other humans had ever been seen, there were people! Not only people, but old men, right there, witnessing my impromptu act of freedom! 

It felt like time stood still. When I was finally able to move, I tried to run back to the deep area of the river, but I had traveled a ways on the sand bank, and the old guys were coming too quickly. It was probably the fastest they had moved in ages. 

Seeing there was no escape from the telescopic gaze of these two , my friend sat down in the river covering her nakedness with her knees and arms. I followed suit but instead of sitting, I quickly splashed onto my belly. The river was not deep enough to cover my naked ass, so it grazed the air above the water, providing quite a show. 

As the boat floated by with two gawking old men, I said in a shameful, quiet voice, “I’m sorry”. When the boat had gone far enough past, I got up and moved as quickly as I could toward the riverbank that held my clothes. My friend beat me there, grabbed all of our clothes, and ran back into the woods out of sight.

As I quickly made my way up the embankment, I looked back and realized the dirty old men had turned around and were coming back toward me! In that moment, they saw a view of me no one else has ever seen.  As I reached the top of the riverbank, I thought, the hell with it. I turned to the boat, waving to the dirty old men, while smiling and posing, then ran for my clothes, laughing like a wild woman. 

I have to wonder if those guys in the boat told this story as many times as I have. Also, I am truly grateful that smartphones were not yet invented!