Along the Mississippi River in Cape Girardeau, Missouri outside the Themis floodgate sits a sturdy bench ready to offer a weary walker a seat along the river.

When I sit here, I imagine the stories of those who came before me; and watch as the swift current carries tree trunks, branches, and other mysterious debris the river has picked up in the recent past along its 1,450 mile trek from its tranquil headwaters in Minnesota south to its swirling dark depths in Cape Girardeau.

The river grows larger with each passing mile until its span is so wild and unpredictable that even small boats dare not try their luck on it. Barges fight the current leaving behind massive rolling waves in their wake.

When heavy spring rains cause the river to rise out of its banks threatening the levees and river walls that line the middle and lower Mississippi, the bench is completely submerged. It is then able to see the river’s secrets, but whispers them to no one who sits on its banks.