When something stressful invades my life, I always find myself returning to the solace of  the river.  Living inland, I can’t enjoy the comfort of deep blue water or the sound of crashing ocean waves.  But there are peaceful lakes and rivers all over the world, and they are there for you in times of despair.  

My river—the Wabash—isn’t blue like the ocean unless the sun is very bright and the sky is cloudless.  It’s often a cool, pale green.  While watching the gentle,  rippling waves moving up toward  the bend in the river,  I  begin to relax . The Wabash is here for me now, and tomorrow.  It’s steady, predictable and comforting.  And even if I’m not stressed out, it gives me a feeling of calm and clarity that heightens my satisfaction with life in general.

The river front in my city isn’t a particularly popular destination.   A cluster of subsidized senior housing units nearby doesn’t add much glamour.. Consequently,  it isn’t a ritzy, fashionable spot. But the city maintains parks where children can play, and shelters where folks can picnic.

The banks of the Wabash are  lined with towering trees and leafy bushes.  Geese wander in the grass, guarding their fluffy yellow goslings.  Around noontime , you will see  many parked cars with solitary drivers, reading books or cheering themselves up from whatever might be wrong in their lives.  Strangers may nod, but they keep to themselves.    

There’s a movement in the town to do something like the river walk in San Antonio, Texas,  I’m hoping that doesn’t come to pass in my lifetime.  Right now, I like driving past the small childhood home of musician Paul Dresser who wrote, “On the Banks of the Wabash,”   He lived there with  his brother,  Theodore  Dreiser , author of  the scandalous novel , “Sister Carrie.” Then, there’s  that moment of joy when I see the sunlight shining across the water.  And I’m glad I found solace by turning to the river.