The Time it Takes for a River to Quit

The sky was darkening above me, sending long shadows ahead. The wind picked up and tugged at the corners of my jacket. I stopped resisting and let the wind push me forward. Broken glass among the dead grass crunched beneath my worn leather boots. The sound pulled my mind to a distant past, one without boots and jackets. One without problems—or at least problems known.

I was a child at the time, walking through a field of green grass that was long enough for the tops to be seeding. It would pull at it, gathering them in my hand like sand from a bucket. When both of my hands were full, I ran. The grass licked at my thighs, and groups of birds lifted off from their burrows in the grass. I was filled with hope and freedom—I was young.

The field eventually turned into dirt before openingg up to a wide river that meandered to a distant ocean.

Maria was there, watching the river flow past. I almost didn’t want to disturb her. There was a certain kind of peace people get when watching the steady flow of water gliding over rocks like a clear sheet. I walked quietly, and for a moment, stopped and watched her. Her arms were down to her sides, and even then, I could see the bow of her elbows. Her feet were all but gone—sucked into the mud to her ankles. Even a gentle river, when given enough space, will roar as it moves over rocks.

She was so still. So small against the current. Unbidden, my mind imagined what would happen if she were in the water, surrounded by the current. The same water that provided such easy breaths to watch was the same that would steal the air from her lungs without hesitation.

My stomach squirmed, and I had a sudden pang of fear that she might fall in, even though she was planted firmly in the mud. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I shook the thoughts away.

“Maria!” I shouted, jogging the rest of the way to her. She swiveled towards me, her dark hair shining in the morning light as it whipped around her neck.

“Finally!” She waved me forward. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

I stepped into the mud, leaning into each next step to fight the pull of the mud. I stopped next to her and wiggled my feet to sink into the earth next to her.

She held out a hand, and I poured a handful of grass seeds into her palm; a few spilled over the sides into the mud around her legs.

She separated the seeds evenly in both of her hands before looking back out at the river. I wasn’t sure why, but I did the same. It was loud, and when I looked at the ground just beneath the surface of the water, it nearly made me lose my balance. Despite her saying we had to hurry, we watched the water together for several quiet moments.

“Here it comes,” she said, breaking the string of silence. I looked upriver and spotted several objects floating down. “This time let’s do it right after they pass.”

“Okay,” I said, keeping my eyes on the floating debris. I couldn’t tell what it was from there, it was always something different, but as it neared, I spotted several things of the same things that I had been noticing more and more. A handful of plastic bottles bounced over the rocks, separating for a moment, then coming back together as if magnetic. Next were the tires. Where the bottles smoothly arced over the stones with the water, the tires flipped and crashed into each other. Occasionally, one would even land on another, making it sink before it rolled out and found a new spot to float. There must have been dozens of them, and when they finally passed, more trash that I couldn’t recognize followed. Then came the sheen. It was beautiful and terrible. The surface of the water was covered in shining multi-colored lights, thick enough to carry slivers of plastic and rubber. I looked at Maria, and she looked back.

“Now,” she said, and arced one of her fists through the air, spraying grass seeds over the water. I followed her lead, but where she fanned her seeds out, I threw them like a ball. I wanted to get as close to the center as I could. Several moments later, we threw the seeds in our other hand and watched them rush away.

I brushed my hands together to get the last seeds off and looked at Maria. Her eyes were red and watery. “Maria?” I asked, “Are you okay?” She nodded but didn’t say anything. “What’s wrong?”

She hung her head, and her shoulders drooped. “I don’t know. I just—” She swallowed and gestured to the river, which was finally returning to normal. “Why?”

I took a breath. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, Maria. We’re cleaning it up. Grass will grow and take over and clean wherever the trash ends up.” I looked at her. “We’re helping make things right. You should be happy.”

I had been so young. Now, as the final rays of light spread across the dirt in front of me, I felt like such a fool. I walked several paces and soon could hear the river ahead. It wasn’t as loud as it was before. Not at all.

I let the wind guide me the rest of the way and soon arrived at the same place that I had once thrown grass into the river. It was all but gone now. Where once a mighty river flowed, nothing but a trickle of brown water snaked its way around various bits of trash. There were even some torn tires among the slimy, sheened mud.

I stood there, alone, watching the thin line of water fight to continue. Some plants and weeds were growing around it, but no grass. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the few seeds I had brought with me, and let them drop to the mud around my boots.