My friends and I were headed downstream on the river, south of Rhinelander, Wisconsin; we had been for some time, now. My boat was old, rusted metal. I shared it with an annoyingly persistent, dumb boy. It wasn’t our boat, though. It was my boat. My boat, in particular, had been rocking back and forth much more than the others. The burning sun that pierced my skin then stung me immensely. The sun had gone down on the trees; not on the river, though. 

The frigid cold water smacks my sensitive, burned skin. Ouch. I was ready to be on land. So was everyone else, I’m sure. Every rower that day questioned why exactly they chose to do this. I heard someone yell something out. The sound echoed amongst us. We docked on the nearest portion of the island. 

The point was covered in greenery, not an empty patch of land in sight. We climbed up the plants onto the flat land. Everyone stretched like cats after a long nap, as we had been cramped up for hours now. We needed wood for a fire tonight– if we wanted to keep ourselves warm, at least. Immediately everyone began piling wood. How could the surface of the ground be so flooded and engulfed in perfect firewood? My thoughts blurred as my exhaustion took over.

The magic happened when I threw my exhausted head back in a sigh of relief for warmth. My pupils dilated, and I was mesmerized. Hundreds of tall trees surrounded me. They swayed slightly in the wind, but I stood still. Their beauty paralyzed me. My heart felt full, my soul felt at rest. I swayed slowly with the trees, back and forth, back and forth. I had never seen such beauty. This beauty was concentrated, everywhere I looked, I was amazed.

I told everyone, “Look up! Look up!”

But no one cared enough to stop collecting wood for the fire to just look up. I wanted to remember their elegance as much as I could. Their pale white bark contrasts with the green and black surrounding them. Their lengthy trunks enticed me. 

The light shining through made the trees look heavenly. I wished so badly that I could climb up the tree and see the islands from above. I didn’t want to take this lovely bark from the angel trees, but I knew they had passed. They were in their best condition to be burned. 

So, we would go on to have a beautiful fire that night. In the brisk cold night, after we had finished setting up camp, the fire was smooth as butter, warm as could be. We surrounded it as the fire absorbed and cured our chilled bodies.

The day was long, but the night was worth it. I thanked my lucky stars to have seen what I saw that day, all because I looked up.