When Under Water

This is an older entry from the previous blog, but it's on my mind today....

I’ve been thinking about relationships, more specifically what I would like to have in a relationship. There is so much that I could list here. Should I begin with the usual? Sense of humor, nice eyes, intelligent, etc., etc….Too boring? How about this: I want him to be HOT (pronounced hawt, by the way.) Not really my style though. I’m far too transcendental to be focused on appearances. So, here’s what I’ve been contemplating…..

In October of this year, Tarin and I moved, but before the move I lived very close to a bike path that I used to walk and ride my bike on. Sometimes, I would ride with Brandon. Sometimes, I would walk with Tarin. Most times, I rode and walked alone. It gave me time to think.

When we first moved to Fayetteville in August of 2009, I was not accustomed to sharing my daily life with anyone but Tarin, so being in a relationship was an adjustment. Alongside the bike path runs a creek. There were a few occasions when I just needed to be alone, and I would go find a secluded place on the creek to sit and watch the water trickle past.

I love sitting next to running water. There is something soothing about the sound it makes as it breaks across the surface of rocks and debris in its path…the water leaving immediately replaced by more behind it. I have no idea where the creek leads, or from where it originates, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to enjoy the section I was graced to see. These places along the creek were designed for me, and no one could take that.

When winter came, there were days the creek slowed its journey to places unknown. I loved the days it was flanked by snow. The water was still rushing, although everything around it was buried in cold. There were even a few days the water spent encased in ice, and though it was hardly noticeable, there still was life beneath the frozen.

But winter was far too long for me, and spring came just in time. With spring, the creek seemed to be a symphony. The water rose, and resurrected life everywhere. Animals scurried around, as did insects and bugs. So much noise, so much movement, so much life! It was amazing, and I often found myself distracted from my walks, especially when I would walk at night….that is when the really interesting noises emerged, and the kitty cats prowled!

The summer arrived, bringing heat, so I avoided walking during the day and kept my walks restrained to evening and night. The symphony still played, but seemed stifled through a veil of humid air. Rain left for weeks at a time, and the creek began to withdraw. Eventually, the recession from the bank was over, and the water flowed no more. A great deal of the noise left, as well. I suppose the life sought water elsewhere, but I continued to seek solace in the dry creek bed. I watched. I waited. I wondered if the water would return.

I changed my walking route one day, and walked across the little bridge I usually sat by or walked past. As I returned to walk back across the bridge, a sign caught my eye. It stood erect to alert me that the water would return. The sign said, “TRAIL UNSAFE WHEN UNDER WATER.” It was hard to imagine the dry creek being so expanded that the trail would be beneath water…but if it were impossible, then the sign would not have existed, so I walked away comforted that the water would return.

On a day near the end of the summer, I was caught in the rain as I walked. I could have run home, but I didn’t. I walked and allowed the rain to soak me, hoping that the creek would find its fill, and that’s exactly what happened. The next day water trickled, water broke across the surface of things in its path, and water brought life back. I thought about the sign. I thought about life. I thought about relationships….and I wanted a relationship like the creek.

Somewhere out there must be a man who can love unconditionally. So, I’ll keep looking for him. I’ll wait for that man who might see me scared or running away and will stay the course, knowing that there may be silence, there may be noise, there may be ice trapping life, there may be snow, there may be a stifling heat which restrains, there might be a withdrawal, there may be no water at all, but the trail to my heart remains open… and in the drought, there is always an expectation that the trail will again be under water, surrounded with life, moving freely, bustling with passion and bursting with a love that does not know unforgiveness.
© 2010 April Prichard