As we age, our interpretations of an experience diversifies, and these different interpretations give us opportunities for discovering profound insights into our lives and the world around us. This is especially true for me when I recollect my time at Niagara Falls. At the time I saw the waterfall, when I was six years old, I failed to understand the beauty of the Falls as how I see it today. Instead, at that time, like most hyperactive first graders, my attention was quickly swayed by the caw of a bird or the whine of another child. However, this does not mean I failed to notice any of the raw beauty of the Falls, rather I saw the Falls in a different lens of interpretation. For example, I remember noticing that not even a single bird ventured into the horseshoe expanse of the falls, rather avoided the falls altogether. I also remember the cool and refreshing mist always blew towards my face in counts of three or four, as if there was a beat of a metronome coordinating the symphony of nature that is Niagara Falls. These details, however negligible they seem, are invaluable in understanding my past self and the experiences of that day. They give me glimpses of a childlike innocence, stored within the alcoves of my brain, buried deeply with the past.

Now, when I piece the details, I get this mosaic. Juxtaposing my beautiful memories, like the ever present arced rainbow and the defiant green island in the middle of the overhang, are details like remembering the conversation with another boy of my age or noticing the speed at which the concrete dried when hit by a loaded mist; overall, these pieces combine together to form a clunky yet holistic picture of that day. I am not saddened by the fact that I did not get to view these experiences at an age when I was more matured rather I am amused when I compare how I saw these experiences then to how I see them now. However there is one exception.

There is only one part of the Niagara Falls trip where I have no other interpretations. I see the experience now exactly how I saw it when I was six years old. It was in the peak of the sunny afternoon when my family and I went on a boat ride that took us near the falls. When I was on the boat, even before we neared the falls, the noise and excitement in the air was a clear indication that this was going to be the experience of a lifetime. It proved true.

As the boat inched near, the roar of the falls, as ceaseless as ever, only increased in intensity. This was a roar that was the result of 150,000 gallons of water crashing unforgivingly into the turbulent pools below every single second. This was a roar that startled the heart in its sheer intensity but calmed the mind in its monotony, a roar that rejuvenated the soul yet stimulated the adrenaline. This roar demanded a respectful gaze of awe to any spectator, man and beast alike. Then as the boat cautiously neared the falls, I started to feel gentle winds of mist soaking my face. This mist was cleansing, hydrating and alleviating all at once. Its taste was fresh and cool like that of melted snow, forever present because this spectacle demanded laughing smiles and whoops of joy which allowed the water to sneak past the teeth and satisfy the tongue.

But nothing compared to seeing the waterfalls and all its enormity as when the boat was frighteningly near to the cascade, when we had to crane our necks to see the overhang 165 feet above. Because at that moment when everything was noisy and overwhelming but nonetheless surreal, I felt changed. Nowhere in nature had I seen true aesthetic perfection, as I saw in Niagara Falls that day. The scale of the Falls was so massive that it could not be fully captured in two, 25 millimeter spherical studs that we call eyes. With its waters falling in sheets, like bridal veils wrapping around a horseshoe expanse of shale and lime rock face, Niagara was more than a falls. It was perfection.

As I saw the spectacle, I began to wonder in the incomplete way of a child. I imagined how this phenomenon would look had people not existed. It would probably be masked with brush and trees, only available to the wandering deer or brave rabbit but in the end the water would still be flowing. Hence the insignificance of man in front of Niagara Falls was depressingly ever-present. It is sadly humbling to us, the proud humans who seem trivial in the grand scheme of nature and Earth. Because with or without us, this same toothy overhang would continue to pour millions of gallons of water everyday for centuries and millenniums.

As I recollect my train of thought on that boat, I recall in amazement at how my six year old self was able to grasp this idea that I am only now able to explain in words. As humans we grow up in a society that fosters pride for the our race, making us more and more defiant to the idea of the true dominance of nature. This attitude plays a role of dampening the blow because it is often defeating to think that the sheer ferocity of the Falls mocks the trivial structures of mankind. This thought provoking part of the trip makes me now appreciate the fact that I saw Niagara from a different perspective. My innocent lens of interpretation allowed me to see that no building size or scale, no structure tall or wide, no machine strong or fast can stand equal to the strength of this artifact carved by nature.