The River

I returned from the office this evening tired and with a peculiar feeling of ambivalence regarding the upcoming weekend. Ambivalence related to the fast pace of business and life but oddly comfortable in this pace.

After a relaxing meal I reached for my laptop and pieced together an album showcasing a couple’s recent engagement photo session. As I completed this task I peered outside and noticed the sky had brightened ever so slightly. I reached for the keys to my scooter, donned my helmet and when my wife asked me where I was going, I replied, “The river.”

Nancy knows not to ask much beyond this response. She knows the meaning of water in my life.

I arrived at the river and was met by a cool breeze, the sound of crickets welcoming the evening and gulls which flew overhead. Ducks swimming by also announced their presence. In the distance I saw a boat towing a water skier. The water was calm and wave less the surface broken only by the wake left by the passing boat. From time to time the breeze increased and lightly ruffled the leaves of a nearby sapling.

The sky above the horizon remained a welcoming shade of pink as if to challenge the weather report and daring it to rain.

A runner swiftly runs by my perch on a nearby picnic table, his keys informing me of his presence. The hum of an airplane engine softly undulated overhead the sound decreasing as the plane travels away. A freight train rumbles by announcing its passing with the sounding of it’s air horn. I look up from my book and watch a man flying a stunt kite. I wished I had brought my kite. The sound of the fabric as it ripples by the wind relaxing in and of itself.

Home.

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