the river

Every day, on my way out into the world, I pass across the river. Every day, my eyes are captured by its rolling beauty, and I inhale a small breath of its offering. For the past nine months, I have crossed that river and I have watched its subtle alterations, embracing the inner changes in myself with the changing of the seasons. On my first passage, the river was just beginning to become alive. The waters barely swirled, gently grazing the surrounding miniature boulders. As the days passed, the sun’s reflection on the river brightened, mirroring a golden heat and a world of opportunity. For many months, I passed over the river and it appeared the same, calm and clear and shining with optimism. But eventually the storms came, and the river became fierce and intense, its darkened waters raging against the embankment. Those days, I passed over the river as quickly as I could, fearful of the rage with which it beckoned. But gradually its fury subsided and the view revealed a birth of rich, vibrant life. The waters glistened with newness and each day revealed an ever-changing vision of beautiful chaos. As my journeys have become more frequent, the river has again begun its change. These days, I cross the river and hear its delicate tears falling amidst the overhanging trees. Tears of happiness, tears of relief, tears of regret, and tears of grief. Some days, the river tells of a deep sorrow, its cries becoming louder and more demanding. But most days, like today, it tells of bittersweet memories and fragile hopes.