I’ve spent my whole life by the river.
When I was small I couldn’t see the water very well because there were too many trees in the way. But as the years passed and storms came and some spring thaws were bigger than usual, the river carved away at the bank and the water crept closer and by the time that happened, I was taller. Then I had the perfect view.
Every day was the same but in a thousand ways was different. The morning sun would light the ripples in the middle of the river, the very deep part with fast moving water that churned and flowed at different speeds along the surface so it looked like the river was breathing. As the sun rose, it would warm the little strip of sand and mud that was close to where I stood and I would stare for hours into the shallow water watching the crayfish and minnows. The water hardly moved at all here, pushed back as it was by a curve in the shore, so I could see perfectly the little fish moving about and the crayfish digging themselves into the mud then coming up again and moving under the water to a new location. The sandpipers would come later in the morning and run up and down the strip of shore beneath me, hunting for bugs on their fast moving legs before flying across the river to the other side. The kingfishers would perch on a branch overhanging the water in the sunshine, then suddenly fly out to dive through the surface and come back with a fish to whack whack whack on the branch before returning to their nest.
I had a wide view of the river. In either direction I could see far upstream and downstream. When I looked upstream, the river was much wider than where I was because it was coming off a bend before it straightened out and flowed past me. When the rains were heavy, especially in places far away, the river would swell and rise and the strip of bank beneath me would disappear and the water would be all churned up and roaring past in a terrible hurry. When it was like that, it came charging around the bend and crashing into the bank and sometimes it even carved away the trees that had been there for years, washing them downstream like twigs, right before me. The raging river can go on raging for days before it settles down and returns to normal, all forgotten and forgiven.
Late afternoon and the sun lights the opposite bank. It’s quite steep on that side, with only a small strip of sand but the sandpipers still find bugs to eat over there. I’d watch the starlings fly back and forth, back and forth, landing on the deadfall that’s caught along the shore. Even when I’ve watched them for long periods I have never figured out why they seem so busy doing nothing. As dusk approaches I’d watch the river turn black and the evening light turn the stones and boulders white. Downstream there was a large spit of rocky shore that jutted into the river and forced the water to pass through a narrow patch that’s very deep. I could just make out the bubbling waves and rapids that light up at night under the moon. The geese liked to rest on this outcropping and sometimes a whole lot of them would stay there for the night with their bills tucked under their wings. I know what it’s like to spend the night by the river and I agreed with their choice.
There was lots of heavy snow this past winter. The river froze solid, at least the part I could see, and was piled high with drifts. Spring started with rain and it’s been raining for a while. Last night the river broke up. Not by me, but further upstream. Everything seemed to have melted at once and the ground wasn’t completely defrosted so was no help in absorbing the snow melt and rain. A monstrous amount of water and ice came crashing around the bend last night and the river clawed into huge swaths of bank, all the way down to where I was. It was terrifying. I clung with all my strength to the frozen ground but it was no use. Down I went into the turmoil, crashing under the water to be turned and tossed and spun a thousand times over. I had no idea where I was, how far I was being carried, it was a terrible, horrifying, unending time with no night and no day.
It’s stopped. It’s finally all stopped. I have no idea how much time has passed. I’m slowly waking up and taking stock of my surroundings. I am wedged, firmly and permanently against a boulder on a large rocky outcrop. I can hear faint rippling of the river but I can’t see it. I can’t see the river. I’m on my back staring up at the sky. All my roots and most of my branches have been broken and shredded and torn from my body. I’m dying. On my back, staring up at the sky, this is where I will be for as long as it takes to die. The vastness above me is frightening. Across my whole vision all I can see is blue sky. I’ve spent my entire life looking down at the river, at the water skimmers, the birds, the fish, the ripples in the sunlight and now all of that is gone. I can’t see any of it and instead I’m to die while looking only upward at a vast blue emptiness.
Night is falling. The blue is changing and becoming deeper. It’s turning to dusk and normally I would be watching the kingfishers fly past to their nests. Now, as night falls and it becomes dark I wish, how I wish, I could tell them I miss them. Up in the sky I see a tiny speck of light. As I look around, I see another. These must be stars. It’s a clear night with no moon and as blackness descends I watch the sky as more and more stars appear. How surprising! Before long there are thousands and thousands of stars shining in the sky forming a band from one end of my vision to the other.
A river of stars.
A river.
How wonderful.
Mental Stretch 