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Simple move
Amy Robinson

Simple move. Break the line, little boof, and you’re crystal and all smiles.
There’s something about Pennsylvania in fall, the beautiful colored trees, the
smell of the changing seasons, coupled with the adrenaline and happiness to just
becoming in tune with the moving river. Her flow is fickle today, curving where
you expect curling, like a beautiful woman in the fog, tempting you to go
further, deeper. So I stroke, feel the strength of the river as I have a
thousand times, pulling through this force millions of times greater than you
are or could ever be. Brilliant dazzling sunbeams dance waltzes across the
sparkles in front of me, entrancing you, calling me. Cold intense freezing
knives betraying the tranquility of this perfect day, and water too much
water…everywhere…betraying your trust and stealing my strength. No thoughts,
just the screaming of my lungs begging to be paid attention to. Somewhere in the
midst of making the “little boof” topside down, somewhere in between the fear
and panic seeps a strange type of serenity, an eerie calm telling me to take a
deep breath and count to ten. Wisps of thoughts drift across the backs of your
eyes… “listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul”…but it is
broken…and agony ensues. Primal instincts take over as you claw for the sunny
day you left behind somewhere up above. Finally coughing shaking crying you’re
suspended in the air above the river that just tried to swallow you whole, and
placed gently on the warm rocks. Hands, familiar, take mine shaking and old
friendly arms wrap me in their gentle embrace. And that’s how we stayed for
quite a bit. Me trying to remember how to breathe air again and him just holdin
me so tight…

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