Sunday, in my opinion, the best day of the week. Big Hill Pond, in my opinion, the best state park. Big Hill Pond is a small state park located in a town called Pocahontas. Not only is Pocahontas my favorite Disney movie, but it is also where my favorite escape is located. Big Hill Pond is a place my family goes to often, and by often I mean almost every Sunday. As the name of the park states, it is filled with big hills, and a huge pond. Trees taller than you can imagine, hiking trails as far as you can walk, and a look out tower allowing you to see the tree tops around the whole park. An old railroad track and old broken down bridge runs through the middle of the park. The old bridge lays over one of the prettiest creeks I have ever seen. And although the beauty of the park itself is outstanding, the real beauty lies within all the memories I have there.
Ever since I was little my grandmother would take me there to spend my days. Telling me stories about how Big Foot (which is 100 percent real) lived there and pointing out certain parts of the park where he sits to read or sleeps at night. My grandmother made the park a million times better than it is realistically. I lost her almost two years ago in a car accident, but there has not a single time I have been to Big Hill Pond and not felt her presences there watching over me and my family.
Today at Big Hill Pond, I spent the day with my family after church just like many times before. But, today was something special. It was a feeling in my heart. A happiness that cannot be replaced by anything other than the love of family. I have two younger sisters, one is 19 and the other is just a year and a half. Today I watched my youngest sister smile so heard that her eyes squinted shut and her giggle filled the air, as she rolled in her toy car down a hill. It was in her child like innocence that I was reminded of my childhood at this same park with my Nana.
If the age difference didn’t give away the fact that my youngest sister wasn’t necessarily planned, well spoiler alert, she wasn’t. Neither me or my middle sister look like my grandmother, but the youngest does. Something about her is an everyday reminder of my grandmother though. The way she pouts in her sleep, and has a mischievous little grin, fake cries better than a paid actress. So, in a big way I think she came along right in time. Just as a little sister watches every move of her older sister, we are also being watched by a guardian angel.
It is at Big Hill Pond that I can escape all of reality and feel free to have the innocence of a child, and cherish each and every moment that is brought to me. Big Hill Pond will always be a sort of sacred ground.