The River

Dad observes the trees as I kneel to retie my shoe for the hundredth time.

“Are we close?” I ask.

“Yep, we’re close.”

A week ago at breakfast, Dad told me that it was time to see the river. He said that every child in his family goes to see it when they turn thirteen.

“What’s so special about this river?” I had asked him.

“It is magical.”

I laughed, but Dad frowned.

“This is a serious thing, Anthony. Only my family knows about it. It is a sacred trip that we take our children on, and then they will take their children.”

“Did Mom know about it?”

Dad waved a hand. “She did, she saw the river a long time ago.”

“But why is this river magical?”

“I can’t tell you,” he sipped his coffee. “It is forsaken to speak about the river.”

I took a bite of my cereal, munching thoughtfully. Was this river really so special or was he pulling my leg?

He had spent the rest of the week planning and packing some bags. He told me it was a long hike and would involve camping out for a couple days. The more he talked about the trip, the more I became disinterested. I continued to try and ask Dad about the river, but each attempt made him angry, and the day before we left I gave up trying to find out more about this supposed magical river.

“Anthony hurry up!” Dad was now a few meters away from me. “It’s only another twenty minutes!”

I pull my laces one last time to ensure they’re tight and jog over to him. There was a twinkle in his eye and an odd smile on his face.

“So now that we’re closer to the river,” I let the words hang in the air for a second. Dad does not reply but quickens his step instead.

I open my mouth to finish my thought as Dad breaks into a run, weaving in and out of the trees. I make a mad scramble to catch up, my vision getting blurry as I strain to keep Dad in my view.

“Dad!” I wheeze.

 He’s moved out of my view. I try to follow the general path he did despite his weaving, but do not get any closer to finding him. Soon, I realize that I am lost. All the trees look the same, tall with thick trunks, canopies of leaves that give little to no chance for sunlight to peek through.

I collapse on one of the tree trunks, skinning my knee as I go down. I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and it feels like my lungs can’t get enough oxygen. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing. It takes a few minutes, but I manage to recover. I take my backpack off, fishing for the water bottle I packed. Despite being warm, the water tastes like the most amazing thing I’ve ever put in my mouth and I have to stop myself before I finish off the bottle.

After what might’ve been half an hour, I get up and look around, trying to strain my ears. I can hear birds calling from different trees. There’s a slight breeze, the leaves dancing lazily with it. I take a step around the trunk of the tree and hear it. It’s very distant, but I can hear the quiet bustling of water.

Grabbing my backpack, I break into a light jog, sometimes walking to recover, moving towards the sound of water. It slowly grows louder and louder until I see a clearing in the trees.

Beyond is a winding river, adorned with cattails and irises. It winds in each direction farther than I can see. I gasp as I look into the water. It’s so clear I can see the fish moving over pebbles and rocks.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I jump, nearly tripping into the water. Dad catches me and helps dust me off.

“How’d you find me?” I ask.

“I never lost you. You had to find the river yourself. That’s the final test before the river can accept you.”

“Accept me?”

Dad waves his hand and begins walking upstream. I follow, questions foaming at the mouth. Why did the river have to accept me? What would happen if it didn’t?

Another twenty minutes pass before Dad declares our camping spot. It is about a yard or so away from the water to prevent our fire from destroying the vegetation that surrounded it. We set up our tents and begin roasting hot dogs.

“What would’ve happened if the river didn’t accept me?” I watch the shadow of the fire flick his face, looking for changes in his expression.

“Then we would’ve gone home and you would never be brought here again.”

“Why not?”

“Those who are not accepted are not welcome.” He rotates his hot dog. “Your mother went through the same thing as you, and if she had failed she would’ve been turned away from the river.”

“Why this river? What is so special about it?”

Dad blows on his hot dog before taking a bite, munching thoughtfully. Expecting no answer, I dig into my hot dog as well.

“It grants immortality.”

I choke, swallowing hot dog bits painfully.

“Immortality?”

Dad nods and goes to cook another hot dog. “When the moon rises, the river begins to glow, and anyone who wades into it will be blessed with immortality.”

“I’m only thirteen! I don’t want to be stuck a kid forever!”

Dad laughs. “It doesn’t work like that. Immortality sets in somewhere in your twenties. It is different for everyone, but none of us age normally past thirty.”

I put the roasting stick down and lean back, trying to take in what Dad is saying.

“So you’re immortal?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you now?”

He looks up for a moment, counting with one of his hands.

“I stopped aging around the time that World War II ended.”

I feel my jaw drop. That would make my father old enough to be my grandfather or my great grandfather!

Dad sees my reaction and laughs. He seems amused at the way I am handling this information.

“What about mom?” I ask.

Dad stops laughing and bites his lip. He slowly nods and sighs.

“Your mother was immortal like me. However, she was much older than me. She stopped aging in the late 1800s.”

“Was? Is there a limit to how long immortality lasts?”

“Yes and no.” Dad takes another bite, grimacing as he realizes he burned his hot dog a bit.

“There isn’t really a limit on how long it lasts, but rather each individual reaches a point where they have this feeling that their time in this world is over. They journey back to this river and once more wade into it at night, except they don’t come back out.”

“But surely someone finds their bodies?”

“There are no bodies. It’s almost as if we return to the water, our bodies becoming one with it.”

“That’s what happened to Mom?”

Dad nods. “It was when you were five. She began to feel like her time was nearing, but she didn’t want to let go. She held on until you were nine, and finally gave in.”

“She couldn’t hold on just a little longer?” I blink back tears, angry tears. I always thought my mother died from an illness, but to know she chose to leave me. I want to scream.

“There are those that try to fight the call to return to the river. Some try very hard, like your mother. There is a point where the river wins, and the person falls under hypnotic spells where they find themselves returning to the river, despite what they want. Your mother felt that coming and didn’t want you to see her that way. She chose to return to prevent hurting you, and though you were hurt anyways, I assure you seeing someone under the river’s spell is much, much worse.”

“How much worse?”

“I’ve known relatives kill to get back to the river.” His voice was grave. “Some have even killed their own family members, all because they tried to stop my relatives from returning.”

“So if Mom had stayed, and I had tried to stop her leaving,” My voice trails off as I realize the sacrifice my mother made.

“She would’ve killed you,” Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. I did not notice him move from where he had been sitting. “She loved you very much.”

We hug and rest, watching the sky as it shifts from day to dusk, and finally night. The moon rises until it seems to hover right over the river. As it reaches its destination, the river begins to shimmer. It glows silver in the moonlight yet remains as clear as it was earlier.

Dad watches it with awe in his eyes, then turns to me.

“Time to go for a swim.”

I take off my shirt and shoes and step towards the water.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

He shakes his head. “There are only two times in your life that you can wade in the river. When you are of age, and when it is your time to go. If I were to wade in that river, I’d never come back.”

I nod and take another step towards the river, dipping a toe in. The water though cold is strangely comforting, and I find myself stepping fully into the water without hesitation.

I turn back to Dad and see him smiling, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“What do I do now?” I ask.

“Submerge completely.”

“Won’t I be carried downstream?”

He shakes his head. “The river will hold you in place.”

I take a deep breath and submerge. Dad is right, I am not pulled by the current. The fish swim around me, shining as brightly as the river itself. They seem to dance around me as they move before letting the water carry them away.

I realize my lungs do not cry out for air as I continue to stay under the water. I look up at the moon and begin to feel a presence, almost as if I am being hugged.

“I am very proud of you,” A voice whispers in my ear. It is soft and comforting, yet there is a hint of sadness.

I turn to try and find the owner, but I am alone with the fish. I wait for what seems like another minute before I ascend. Dad helps me out of the river, towel in hand to help dry me off.

“How was it?” He asks.

“Strange. It seemed like I could’ve stayed in there forever.”

“That’s the river.” He begins to head back for the tents.

“I heard a voice too,”

He pauses and turns back. “A voice?”

“It sounded sad. It said ‘I am proud of you.”

Dad makes a sound in his throat and smiles. Tears stream down his face as he moves to hug me.

“Looks like your mother kept her promise.”

“Promise?”

“She promised me that despite the river, she would hang on until it was your time to bathe in it.”

I smile and dig my face into Dad’s chest.

“Thank you Mom,” I whisper.

In the morning, we pack up and begin to head back home. We do not speak about the river on the journey, nor for several years after that. We continue to live our lives as if the river was nothing more than a fairy tale from the past.

Immortality sets in for me at age twenty-five. Dad says this is when he thinks he stopped aging too. It is several more years after that when I finally marry and have my own son. When he comes of age, I will take him on the trip to the river, just as my Dad did with me. I will let him find the river by himself, just as I did so that he too can be accepted by it and receive its gift.