one day by the river

We all had the day off, the three of us contented in our bodies on this rainy day. We filled the morning with food and card games and phone calls, and then around 1 I had enough and had to get out. I put on my old Docs and some faded grey cords and my locals hoodie and headed off down the road, the air close to my skin, the sky a thick grey. I found an old path (that Dad took me down one time a few years ago) that meanders through the wet undergrowth and sticks, muddy, to the edge of a steep hill, and then brings you over a few small streams to the edge of North River. It takes you to a little pool that to get to otherwise involves much scrambling over slippery rocks. I tucked myself and my boots up onto a rock under the overhanging branches of a maple and sat watching the flow of the river, which was sometimes punctuated by the fall of rain. The water surface would become dotted sporadically by drops, and then as the pace quickened would shiver and wiggle with the tension of it. When I closed my eyes the sound was electric, buzzing.

(The last time I was here was a month or so ago, one of those nameless, happy days that now run together but at the time were as distinct as breathing. I'd convinced Mat and Will to river-run a little bit with me and try to find this pool. (As far as I know there is no local name for it, then again, I haven't asked.) The aforementioned slippery rocks proved a bit daunting, but not much, and we made it there, though on the way back Will did fall a few times. We all dove off the rock and I somehow got the boys to act out the water scene from Dirty Dancing, together; they took turns being Jennifer Grey.)

I feel like my life these days could best be summed up by the cover of Prodigal Summer.