While tossing the romaine lettuce in a zesty lime dressing, I felt the sharp sting of a fresh cut. It took me a couple glances to realize that I hadn’t accidentally sliced the pads of my middle and ring finger. It was that I had spent hours meticulously scouring the Towaliga River, sifting through rocks and stones in search of ancient arrowheads.
The allure of discovering one of these historical treasures has consumed me forever, so instead of gathering under the shade of the mid-river canopy, leisurely floating along, I set my sights downstream and on the potential rewards beneath the water’s surface.
With the river’s gentle current brushing against my skin, I found a spot where two rivers met, and dug in the bank, spreading my fingers to release the muck like I was panning for gold. Until today, I have been diligent about applying sunscreen and seeking shade, but the quest for arrowheads threw all that out the window.
After over an hour of solo exploration, my eyes had begun to play tricks on me, turning ordinary riverbed rocks into possible triangular artifacts. Deciding to take a break, I temporarily suspended my search and made my way back to rejoin the rest of the group.
Before long, the same person who had initially sparked my curiosity about arrowhead hunting shared their “lucky spot.” Eager to test my luck, I set off, following the road to a location beneath the humming power lines. Standing beneath the constant electric hum, I bent down with my back exposed to the sun, ready to engage in a focused hunt. I proceeded to walk in methodical lines, probing the compacted earth. Among the clods of dirt, my efforts yielded a plastic bottle bottom that resembled a scallop shell and another rock with a triangular shape that held promise, yet fell short of being a true arrowhead.
I continued to unearth various specimens, but it was a pointed white stone that captured my attention. Its edges were uniform and converged into a sharp, almost menacing point. I found myself both intrigued and wary of its potential to be one. Could this truly be an arrowhead? I wondered.
“That’s definitely an arrowhead,” my sister-in-law affirmed, holding it up for her brother to see. Even Evelyn, who was wielding a long stick took it in her hand to join in the examination. In that moment, a vivid image flashed through my mind: the arrowhead slipping from her fingers, vanishing into the depths, lost forever.
Driven by a mixture of anxiety and determination, I mustered up the courage to ask for it back. Thankfully, my plea was met. And now, here it is, the culmination of my arduous search and the embodiment of a connection to history: the arrowhead I had so diligently sought after.
I hope you had a great day! I sure did. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 