With every drop, the rain hit the water in the river like tears, rolling into a stream of despair. An unpredictable wave of precipitation flooded the river as the torrential sky sobbed uncontrollably. Even the wind seemed to howl in anguish, whipping the rain around and flinging it into the river. Each drop hit more forcefully than the last and stung the surface, creating chaos where there had once been complete peace. Drenched, she looked at the surface of the waterway that was writhing in pain from the jabs it took with every bead of water that hit. She felt certain that she understood the river’s agony, understood the way it wanted to be left alone without the constant reminder that it would soon have to grow. It had never asked to be tortured in this way.
Only a few days ago, she remembered, the water had seemed cool and serene, content with the ebb and flow that it had known for so long. Life had been simpler and the slight ripple of the water had been comforting. Before, she had been confident that no ripple, however large it may have been, could have permanently damaged the river’s confident current. It held its ground solidly and fit within the gentle arms of the river bank. The water was stronger and more magnificent with the embankment supporting it. But with the rain, the ground had given way and the swells in the water quickly became too big for the river to handle.
She watched as the river thrashed wildly, forced to take on more than it could bear. The water sprang violently into the rocks that jutted out from the surface. It seemed miserable as it struggled to keep itself confined, the weeds taunting the water as it splashed over in places, unable to keep control. Finally, the river could no longer compensate for the onslaught of rain. It gushed out of its beaten path and flooded the ground all around it. The pulse of the water reminded her of a bleeding heart, the irregularity of the palpitations causing it to falter in its desolation.
The run did not seem to be going in any particular direction. Instead it continued into the chaos, trying to course against itself and decimate anything in its way. She wondered if it would be easier if she let go of herself and let the water take over. Her mind wandered as she considered how it would feel to fall under the sharp, icy exterior of the water and end it all. She began to yearn for the darkness the black water would provide her with as she edged closer and closer to the place where she could be pulled under the current. Ominously, the water beckoned to her as she pondered how the ripples would wrap themselves around her neck and how the cold grasp of death would be comforting com+pared to the expectations she would have to face.
As she began to slip her toes under, ready to release her spirit and escape the tragedy that she believed was inevitable, she saw a small fish swim by. Against all odds, the tiny creature was beating the destruction that seemed to be impossible to avoid. The fish swam peacefully with the flow of the water and it seemed to revel in the rain that contributed to the water’s girth rather than be disturbed by it. It swam around her toes, happy in its simplistic life within the confines of the river. It struggled to swim around large rocks that obstructed the current and pass through the stronger areas of movement, but, with determination, it succeeded in reaching its desired destination. As she pulled herself up, she realized the beauty that the fish gave to the body of water. However discontented the river had been before now seemed inconsequential in relation to the tiny bit of life that stemmed from its existence.
The rain slowly began to subside and she watched as the fish disappeared swimming downstream. The water that had escaped the river banks seeped out of the grass, gradually moving back into place in the stream. Though the sky was still gray, the threat of extinction no longer pressed upon the fatigued waterway and the waves became less substantial in rocking the river wildly. The ground unmistakably showed signs that the river had recently flooded, but the swollen banks merely displayed that its obstacles had been overcome. Looking out on the river, she no longer saw the torment that had been so evident before. The water seemed determined to pull itself back together and find its place again.
She focused on that small fish and knew that the river would find its strength. It was collecting itself and flushing away the hopelessness. No longer would it need to define itself by the banks that had held it together for so long. It could survive without them; it had burst forward and sustained itself by its own accord. The agony that had been so evident before now seemed controlled. The river undulated contentedly and treated the rocks and curves in the river as difficult but feasible things to overcome. She knew that the new river would never be the same, but little things, like that tiny fish, would keep it from the brink of destruction. From now on the rain would be a cleansing, a new beginning, that allowed the river to start over and become more beautiful because of its reaffirmed connectivity to the world. Some of the old water that had always been a part of the surge had been lost, but new water had taken its place, water that would make it tougher and assist it as it ventured into the unknown.
The water had become composed and as she looked out on it one last time, the tranquility seemed tangible. Unable to sustain its childlike ways, the river had matured and become one with itself again. Just as the river had, she turned to face her responsibility knowing that she could withstand the torrential downpour for the welfare of the tiny fish. Nothing else mattered anymore.
