The River

She went there every day, if anyone would question her she wouldn’t know what to say. When did it all started or why? She tried to explain it once, but the words seem to lose themselves chasing meanings that were too big, too elsewhere so she couldn’t speak in terms of concretes. In the end it was simply considered as a small extravagancy from a nice, kind woman.

She went there every day, it was her spot, her place, her time of the day. There is a particular time in the evening before the sunset, before the sky turns red or neon pink, before that, the river gathers all the light of the sun in its stream, the river shines. Then arrives the woman, every day, at that moment, in the river bay.

It was her spot, her place, her time of the day, there she got solace; there she felt tenderness, there she reconnected to something she felt bigger then herself.

She went there so many times that the river became fond of her, it started to be their moment, not hers only.

One day, after many days, weeks, months, years, the woman got so sick she couldn’t get out of her bed, so her son went at the river bay, not because her mother ask for it, but it seem like the right thing to do. So when the magical moment arrived, the river search for the woman and it discovered a child that had the mark of her. So the river, filled the backpack of the boy with part of the light it gathered. The boy begun to grasp the feeling of her mother, he was young in age, but there are somethings about connections that all humans know. When the son arrived home, all the light went towards the woman, bathing her.

Next day she felt fine, and she kept on going to the river, even after her old, old days, till the day she died.

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