The boat lay calm on the waters. Only bobbing slightly at a cool current streaming across, or the dartings of a lone fish. It was morning and the sun was enjoying its last few moments of rest. The cockerel tried its best to awaken the sleeping giant.
My fingers traces the water. My mind traced the memories that beheld this place.
When dawn rises, mothers quietly make their way to wash, and hours later children will scamper here to bathe. So familiar, so comforting.
I had clung on for days, refusing to go. Familiarity has a tendency to induce a warm, giddy lull.
But it was time and I had laid my heart to rest. Now, I have made up my mind and weighed the cost of leaving. And I am ready to go.
I unhooked the boat from the little jetty. It was a low, quiet little boat. I let myself into it slowly, and pushed away into the river.
The ripples were sweet music to my hears. As the oars plunged in, the notes bobbed up and down. I laughed before quietly pushing myself away from the jetty, listening to the waves lap gently against the boat, the rocks, the banks. I smiled, tickled by the sounds.
Aside from that, the choir of crickets had dwindled to a few. I stopped awhile to lay back to listen to those few. What harmonies. I sat listening to silence. And the crickets. I’ve not heard silence the way I do now. A rich, delicious, cool silence.
As the water pushed my little boat downstream, I let my eyes roll up to the sky as I rested my back on floor. A greyish dark blue peppered with the remaining stars.
And far ahead, a luminous orange begins to send its reflection across the skies.
I will enjoy the day as it comes.