The River Mother

Submitted into Contest #98 in response to: Set your story on (or in) a winding river.... view prompt

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Adventure Coming of Age Indigenous

Free. Free and flowing. There’s a slight hint of white noise as the clear, cool stuff runs over the stones and pebbles beneath me. It sounds close to the end of a kiss, right when the lips part and the breath between two lovers resumes again. The trees around me shiver in the late afternoon breeze. They speak, too. They tell the others of their beauty as that is the only language nature says. The paddle in my hands swathes out a path to the side of me, gently pushing me along her body. It’s beautiful out here. Always was. 

      This was where I was born. This is where I live. This is, probably, where I will die. This river has become Mother; the trees around me have become Father. The birds, squirrels, and other groundlings have become brother and sister to me. I am home here. They sheltered me when I was scared and fed me when I was hungry. They clothed me when I was naked, washed me when I was dirty. It has taken care of me so well, and I can only do so much. I know every inch of this place. I need no compass to guide me. The stars and the moon are all that I need here. It is the place where I am whole.

      I tried living in different places. I tried my damnedest. I’ve lived where others like me crowd on top of each other and call it rest. I’ve gone to areas where I need to ‘work’ to gain succor and success. I’ve listened to everything, every noise made by metal and wrath. I’ve heard symphonies there. I have heard the sighs and screams of man in all forms; the wrathful, sorrowful, the apathetic, the optimistic. They all play notes on the same scale. But it was all noise. No music was made. I tried to find the harmony in those noises, but there was none to be found. Only the sounds of the dissatisfied and the living dead crowded my ears. I almost went mad. A few times, I did dare tempt my ancestors with an early arrival. I thank them that I finally listened to their pleas and escaped.

      It was them that told me about this place. Ages ago, when I had not a hair on my head and a word in my mouth, they took me here. They sat me alone on the river, who introduced herself to me with lullabies. A few days later, under my grandfather’s watchful eye, she brought herself to me and cradled me in her arms. When I grew older and required more than they could give me, she sacrificed her offspring to my relatives, who made sure that her choice did not go in vain. I grew up strong, virile. I was more spry and agile and had tons of energy. All thanks to her. I could not think of a better friend than this river. I spent my days playing with her and nobody else. I could never relate to anyone my age. The schools they sent me to could never teach me what I learned through her and her home. My peers could never understand what my forefathers and I had with this river. I suppose it is because they lost touch with her eons ago. I can’t blame them, though. How can you love someone that you don’t know? 

      Like all the other children before me, I did grow rebellious. There was a time where, in search of the essence of who I really was, I rejected her. No longer did I allow myself to be wrapped in the river’s loving embrace. No longer did I allow me to feed off of what she offered. I ran as far away as I could manage, trying desperately to search for who I was. My anger and pain became my masters. The realms that I straddled in my life never could be merged together peacefully. For many years, I tried to force them to cohabit. But, that task was forever set up to fail. No matter how hard I struggled, I could never seem to find peace inside through hard work or hustling. 

      However, it was not all in vain. I did come to love another. She, like me, came from two different worlds. Though her worlds and mine were vastly different, we came together out of a mutual sense of failure. In her ebony eyes, I saw the same pain I felt in my heart. Her voice had the same countenance of a limping animal, something I only heard in myself. Quite quickly after meeting, she and I cohabitated. Many times we fell into each other’s arms. When she took me into her arms, I almost felt the same as I did when this river embraced me all those years before.

God, I loved her. And she loved me. But the pain. The damned pain between us was too great. She tried to find relief in many ways. She didn’t realize, though, that she only hurt herself even worse. There were many days that I found her slumped over, crying or near death. Many days I cried with her, as well. I shared with her many bitter tears. One day, to my shock, the tears ran dry. When that day came, I realized the error of my ways. I learned the terror that I had done on myself and what would happen if I continued. Without a word said, I left her there. My love for her, to this day, is still strong. But, I just could not bear the weight anymore.

      IT was here that I came to life two times. The river, as if nothing had happened, welcomed me with open arms. It was here that I found the peace I was looking for. It was here where I could be myself. It was here that I was born again. And it is here that I will honestly know peace. 

June 18, 2021 03:37

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1 comment

The Sundial
13:49 Jun 27, 2021

Good read, interested in what happened to her ha

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