He was born a mountain stream, a youthful river. How long does the river remember?
It seems only yesterday he told her that he loved her “this much” stretching his arms as far apart as they would reach, only yesterday he giggled when she gave him butterfly kisses with her eyebrows.
Only yesterday she cheered at his little league games, only yesterday she taught him to drive a car, seems like he’s been driving away ever since.
Her job was to teach him about life, to manage but not alter his flow, to harness his energy and allow his tributaries their own path, to trust his choices.
She was good at her job, maybe too good. He grew, thrived, loved, learned, and left. Now she watches the river from a far away hilltop admiring its strength and beauty in total awe of its magnificent flow.
How long does the river remember? She’s hoping, like the headwaters, forever.
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