A river runs through the valley, it is cold and black, never moving... |
Preface A river runs through the valley; it is cold and black, never moving. At least it is to anyone who didn't see it before the change. I remember standing on the river bank in almost the same manner I stand today, the only difference is, I'm not 6 years old anymore, 11 years have passed since then, and my mother and father aren't here with me. ------------------------- “Mommy?” I ask, finally allowed to speak. Earlier my father had said that he wanted silence so he could concentrate on fishing. My mother turns to me. “Can we come back tomorrow?” “Maybe, if your dad feels up to it.” I watch in silence as she stares off into the setting sun, her mind working as it always did, her eyes set on something invisible to me. ------------------------- We never went back. Overtime I've managed to piece together some of what she had seen in the sun that day, the only clue I had was small, etched deep in the age lines on her face, a show of longing and grief. Chances are, I will never truly know. For or what she seen coming has already happened, though few understand what it was, those few, including my mother, are gone and here there is no sun. |