Coco was just too small to go any further. The swimming hole in the river was blocked by a long path of boulders, rocks, and mud. When she left the door with her friends to walk to the water, I put on my sandals to follow. Instead of going to the spot I was familiar with, the children turned to the right. I lost sight of them all. I jogged and slipped in my shoes, trying to keep up.

Hidden down those gorges and steep roads is a refreshing Costa Rican secret: The rivers. I am not talking about the rafting rivers, those are big and well-known and a true adventure if you’re into paddling and pounding the rapids. Further back in the more ordinary campo are the rocky, cool, refreshing rivers of Costa Rica, rolling their way to the sea. Most Costa Ricans know of a river near by where you can hang out for the afternoon among the rocks and water. Getting there can be a challenge, that’s a big part of the secret.

I kept Coco in sight and saw her slip a few times in those silly Crocs, which were worse than my sandals to walk in. The parent in me wanted to call out: Get back here! You’re too little to keep up! Then the adult in me said: She’s in your sight, so perhaps it’s better for her to find it within herself to stop. The group turned a corner. When I came around the bend, I couldn’t see any of the kids. Now the parent-in-me was telling the adult-in-me that I was stupid and should have listened to her. I heard kids giggling and talking but didn’t know where to turn. I continued down the steep road (you know the kind you have to walk perpendicular on to stay erect) and came to a ledge with no kids in sight. Now the parent-in-me was panicking. My daughter is not swift around water and has no experience in rivers.

I walked back up the hill and saw a path on the other side of some barbed wire. I crawled through and watched my sandals disappear every third or fourth step in mud. Now I began to plead with God and anyone who would listen: Please don’t let Coco go near the water. Don’t let her slip. As I passed through another barbed-wire fence, I looked up and saw children, one of them belonged to me. Although the rest of the kids were adroit and nimble in these woods, I quickly counted heads and found all in tact. I called out to Coco. Her face relaxed in relief when she saw me. She was covered with mud.

Once at the river, it was another 100 meter walk over the river and up rocks and boulders. I told Coco to stop. The other children went ahead. We sat on a rock; she began to cry. I told her I would take her if she wanted to go, but let’s look at the path ahead. She mustered enough courage to cross the river, gripping my hands as we stepped against the current. As she watched the other kids play up in the swimming hole, she cried because she wasn’t having any fun. I told Coco I remember being small, like she is, when I was young. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up I told her.

We threw rocks in the river. The foliage and fresh smells took over. I could have sat there for hours. Coco kept looking up at her friends. It wasn’t easy for her to decide to leave and climb back home. She gave me a fist full of rocks, and I promised I carried them home for her. I have been facing the fact that my children will die every day since conception. An automatic “worry-wart” must have been implanted right along with the new DNA unfolding in my womb. I’ve had to make peace with all the dangers that lurk everywhere in our lives: Bathtubs, edges of coffee tables, swallowing pennies, sticking fingers in sockets, drinking the dish soap; running into the street; strangers with candy; falling down the stairs; car accidents; bacterias……..need I mention more?

On the steep climb back up that slippery hill Coco told me as she walked down the hill, she had two voices going on inside of her: One telling her to stop and one telling her to go. Funny I told her, I think those same people live inside of me.

We held hands and hovered over to the side of the road as a group of fast ATVs sped by. Wet and spattered with mud, we got in the car for the long ride home.