Photo by L. Fernandez |
Who's to say what happens next? In an instant. A moment. Now.
If I flow down a river with mossy rocks underneath, who's to say I won't get up and feel the snow melt water, cold to my skin, sending a chill to the core of my bones?
The black inner tube is hot to the touch under the mountain sun. I turn it around and wet it in the river water. The tube hits the river with a loud slap and a splash. There is a fish, a tiny fish swimming against the current. Dragon flies flutter and buzz above the river, hunting for flies that glow gold in the sunset.
Photo by L. Fernandez |
I push along underwater rocks until I make it to a pile of stones in the middle of the river that form a rough platform in the sun. I pull myself up, out of the cold water and lay upon the gray rock, embracing its rough warmth. Water drips off me, the stain darkens the granite, revealing streaks of green feldspar and glittering flecks of quartz.
Photo by L. Fernandez |
A wash of water in the river, the same gurgle of white for centuries until I climbed upon this spot and thousands others like me, tourists in nature with our dusty cars, fabric tents, plastic coolers, propane tanks and bare feet.
What stories has this collection of rocks seen, sitting in the middle of the river, at low and high rises, of summer melts and winter frosts, of squirrels and deer tramping by, looking for the next meal?
Photo by L. Fernandez |
Our stories in books, whether they be of paper or digital, how long will they last? How short of time? How long of memory?
I'd wish to see a shelve of spines with my name on it, but I'll settle for a list of bytes with the alphabet online.
Photo by L. Fernandez |
Perhaps I see another kind of story delivery system. Sounds rather dry. Story delivery system. Did the tired fingers of the parchment scribe resent the inky black stamp of the metal letter type? Did the printing press stamp out the feathered quill?
Who's to say it can't happen to you and to me?
Who says?
Who?
Wow! I felt the water and sun warmed rock. And your questions echo in my mind. Thank, Lupe. This is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteGracias.
DeleteGreat imagery Lupe. Made me feel like I was there! Sounds like the environment made great inspiration for future writing. Thanks for the dispatch.
ReplyDeleteThe water was "briskly refreshing." Brrr...
DeleteSincerely,
Snow Melt
Lovely to imagine. Thanks for the images.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome.
ReplyDeleteSincerely,
Inner Tube
Wowie! Wow! Echo, echo. Past, present, future. You captured it all, Lupe. Nicely written.
ReplyDeleteAmazing what lying on a hot rock will do.
DeleteSincerely,
River Bum
Well penned! , moving , and very inspiring! Thanks!
ReplyDeleteNicole weaver
Award-winning Trilingual Children's Author
http://nicole-weaver.com
I also visit marshes on the side.
DeleteSincerely,
Nature Boy
Very beautiful, indeed. I was there with you the whole time, Lupe and could almost smell the hot black inner tube as you cooled it in the water. Many thanks for sharing this piece of magic.
ReplyDeleteDear Nancy,
DeleteThe inner tube leaked so I constantly had to inflated it with my super...cough, cough...breath.
Sincerely,
Hiss Tube
Great imagery. Thanks for that on a hot August day.
ReplyDeleteI'm looking forward to a cool December night.
DeleteSincerely,
Tinsel Town
Thanks for sharing, Lupe. Takes me back to mountain creeks, quiet tidepools, babbling brooks -- summer reminiscing. Now on to Fall...
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I could babble your brook.
DeleteSincerely,
Mountain Tidepool