Why so lucky
We are not all born to live in the Midwest
To swim rivers and lakes during the warm summer months
To feel the casual breeze
Or watch a sparkling river rush by our feet
Knee deep, stones hurting our toes
I had a friend named Rodney
We passed our childhood snorkeling a beautiful trout stream
Submerging and watching
A sun dappled bottom full of moss and stones
Shimmering with mystery and life
My friend grew up boisterous, often rowdey
Yet full of movement like our stream
Bar fights usually found him, or he found them
So, some called him a jerk who never grew up
because he seemed not to even try
He became known for passing out at the wheel
Crashing into ditches
And stoking a hash pipe at 2AM
So, one predictable day found him
Running off a bridge, dying in the river where we played
His head hit the rocks that once gave footing to cross
And he died while high on something
This time when the water rushed by he did not follow
Became instead motionless and snagged
In a place that had once given such joy
I guess everyone’s life is composed of little ironies
Time frozen moments which come back with such haunting clarity
They make us hurt
But rather, I’ll remember Rodney in those days of sparkling currents
With mossy stones under his feet and ripe for adventure
We may travel thousands of miles away from places like these
May live, love, fight and be triumphant, yet end up where we began
These foundational memories remain as real as water
As alive as the smile on a friends face
Filling us with the beauty of what once was
I don’t really know
Perhaps when I die I’ll laugh again with childhood friends
Dive into the same waters
Rush downstream with the force of the river behind my heart
Into whatever is beyond the next bend
I don’t know how else to say it —
Some children are born already dead
Hollow eyed and with bloated bellies
Clutching sadly to their mother’s breast
Without even memories for comfort
Why then are some of us so lucky
So having the privilege to say
Without special virtues or merits of our own —
Farewell Rodney my friend
It really was a time, wasn’t it
12/28/2017
Peter W. Johnson