There is nothing that can compare to riding trails along this Mississippi River, my river of dreams. The water that flows past me came from somewhere I do not know to somewhere else I also do not know. The river has flowed for ages, many others have stood on its banks, just as I stand. I do not know them, they were gone long before I arrived, yet I feel their presence, I feel their sorrow. Their way of life was lost in history and I was the beneficiary of their loss. I say a blessing in their memory and mourn their passing – the Native Americans, explorers, pioneers, loggers, railroaders, the reminders of their existence are few, and the reminders of mine will be even fewer. Their spirits flow with the river as will mine one day when I am no more. No other river can compare to my river of dreams. It has captured my imagination for eternity.