random etchings

Play

I read in a school book last year that people used to think the river was alive. Every spring she crept up over her banks, looking for her lost baby, and they’d have to toss some kid into the river to make her go back down again. I don’t know about that. It’s always struck me that the river is more like a kid. She just wants attention or she’ll throw a whooping tantrum and there’s the end of play time.

When the river rises, she creeps into our games, like my baby brother who just doesn’t know when he isn’t wanted. She spills over our football field and creeping up over the net until we are playing ankle deep in water.

Mama doesn’t like that. She tells me every morning—“Now, Ricky, I want you to promise me to keep you and Marvin out of the flood water. That’s dirty, filthy water.”

I listen to her and promise every morning, but the water is so cool and everyone else is having such a good time that my feet creep in and my legs follow, and soon my shirt’s off, and I’m kicking the football around, ankle deep in water. But I keep Marvin out—cause he’s just a baby, and ’sides, he doesn’t know how to play so that the river doesn’t take him.

Yesterday, the river wanted to play too. I was heading the ball into the goal and Juan missed, and suddenly it was fifty feet down the river caught up in a snag a good ten feet into the deep water. So we made a chain, linking arms and edging ever so carefully out until we caught it back again safe. Oh did I get into trouble for that one. Knees I can explain, but I was muddy all the way up to my neck.

But we knew that it was time to take our field back from the river. So last night, we all snuck out after dark and went up to the bluff. It was me and Juan and Charlie—I’m the oldest, so I took the little dollykin that we made with grass and dirt and river water and spit. And I pricked my finger and bled on its head. And then we all gave it a goodbye kiss and tossed it into the water.

We didn’t even know Marvin was there until he jumped out from the bushes and yelled that he was gonna tell and got all baby-girl scared-cat and took off running home and tattled, but Mama didn’t believe him because by the time he’d explained things, I was in my bed with my eyes screwed shut.

I was so tired when it was time to get up this morning, but I heard on the news that the water crested and the river’s creeping back down into her banks. I’m just glad we didn’t have to give her the ball.