Often the Loving of something is reason enough.
Why get cerebral about it?
That split second when the nip of cold water touches my bare feet, the gasp as the water passes my rag-tag, home cut, jean shorts. Bare chested, filthy and absolutely in love with life here standing in whatever river i’m in.
Rivers there… well everywhere. Ive seen them in so many states - From filthy black poisoned, to so clear you’d think it was a window into another world. Which I guess it is in a way. I’ve been swimming eyes wide open since before I could ride a bike and it is indeed another world under there.
So much of this short life holds sepia coloured memories of summer afternoons in or around a river. The sun having crested 4 o’clock shimmering over one of my favourite stretches and reflecting the entrancing fluid ridges of passing water.
We used to push old dead fallen tree’s into it and ride them down.
Then it was just me and the tree.
We used to gather here and imbibe in another of natures grown pleasantry’s.
Then it was just me, sober.
We used to come down as a treatment group and you all would have a blast realizing fun could be had like I did at the beginning.
Then it was just me, skippin stones still alive.
We used to come down round’ my birthday.
Then it was just me, naked at midnight of the 17th with the fuckin aggressive beaver.
We came down here when you let that lie off your chest that killed me.
Then it was just me piling up rocks with numb toes.
We showed the crowd what swimming like a fish in one foot of depth looked like.
Then it was just me showing myself again and again I could.
We frolicked here in a foreign land languishing in the burning season heat, in love.
Then it was just me revisiting a favourite film.
-
I came down and sat alone, listening to you blabber. It soothed my soul, changed the posture of my heart. I skipped a few stones a fair ways and closed my eyes gently, watching your reflection dance behind them.
Then,
It wasn’t just me anymore.
Mackie TVM