The River

What is it that makes the river want to move? Perhaps it is the wind, calling its name somewhere in the distance. Perhaps it is the mountains, driving it away with its intimidating height. Perhaps it is the birds, each one flying over it to give it a sense of where it needs to go.

Or maybe there is no reason. Maybe the river simply goes wherever it goes because it feels it needs to go there. Maybe it knows that somewhere, far off in the distance, beyond where it can see or even feel, there is someone or something that needs its water, and it must take it to them. So, with nothing but itself to keep it company, it begins.

The river begins cold, wading its way from the starting point, wherever it may be, and heads to the ending, a place it cannot know for certain. It slowly passes the trees and animals of many forests, never once truly knowing where it is. It never questions the journey, knowing fully well that the end will be worth the wait. It glides onward, seeing much of what man has never seen before.

Soon, it meets friends. Animals begin to come to the river, seeking aid from its cold depths. Bears, deer, rabbits, squirrels, and many more come to drink from the river’s bounty. Though many are natural enemies, they are calm, each careful to give the other the space they need. When they have had enough, they make off, leaving room for the others. During this time, however, the river is not waiting for them. It is constantly moving; constantly making its way towards the end of the race, which it hopes to see.

The fish help by swimming with the river, carrying it along and showing it the way to go. The River does not question what they say, for it does not know where it is going, or the correct direction to go. Because of this, many do not want to travel with it; some wish to branch off and try their luck at finding the right way to go. The river does not object, and allows them to go. Soon, other small streams are formed from the river, each branching out into other places of the world.

The river continues on its set course, doing what it can never to stray. It knows that this is the right way, but does not know exactly what this is the right way to. It begins to feel a new presence near by.

The fish begin to feel wary, swimming in all directions rather than the course set by the river. The river feels it too, but cannot make out what it is. Another type of animal appears in the water. This animal is holding some form of stick, one that the river had not seen before. The river moves on cautiously, making no effort to hurt the creature, just to give him his space.

The river felt a fish cry out. It did not know what the cry was for. At the same moment, the creature jerks his stick and was holding the fish before long.

Forests and trees are disappearing, making way for mountains and snow. The river presses on, never once looking back at where it had been. The mountains were tall, each covered with trees up to a certain point, stopping to make way for the snow. The mountains continue on for almost an eternity. Each went up and down, but instead of coming all the way back to the ground, they seem to move into the next mountain, forming this incredible chain. The river washes through them, blown away by what it sees and in awe of everything around it.

The eagles fly down and began to search the water, looking for some for of food in the river. Sometimes they swoop down, glide along the water with their majestic wings held wide open and fly back to their perch with nothing. There were times, though, that one would glide down while a fish would be swimming up to grab a small snack and in a miraculous display, the bird would get him.

Quite often the river encountered other small streams and creeks, each searching for the great ending, but having luck. They all trickled into the river in order to find their way.

Mountains and snow gave way for plains and grass, leaving behind the cold and dreary for the lush and the sunny. The river is in awe of everything around it. This time, however, there are no animals out grazing. There are large structures, not as big as mountains but larger than trees, all lined up next to each other. The river had not seen these before either. Before it is a large grey structure; the thing was carrying other moving creatures over the river. Even scarier, the river had to go under this thing. The river moves forward.

More structures begin to appear; more creatures like the one with the stick; and more moving creatures that had been on that grey thing. The river was wonders if it is doing the right thing, but never changes direction, never once reconsiders. The fish enjoy the place they are. The creatures are throwing down pieces of bread and other food to the fish, giving them food.

The river finally makes it through where it was. Never before had it been to such a place. Structures varying in height like the ones it passed; creatures all being out in the open without fear; creatures wearing such unusual furs and covers from the sun.

Rain set it. The river likes rain. It helps keep it strong in the journey and lifts its spirits. Many times it just cannot go on because it feels too weak, then it rains. The rain gives it a reason to go on by giving it more energy. Though it never understood the process, it knows that it works.

The river rides on, feeling warmer and warmer. Something is making it feel warmer. The land begins to shift and change again, leaving behind all that was there and slowly changing yellow. Some kind of dirt covers all around it, and the river again questions itself.

A noise is soon heard. A soothing, peaceful motion that causes relaxation among the river and leaves it still for a brief moment. Then, moving forth at a pace slower than usual because of the length of the journey and everything it had seen, it becomes one with the ocean.

As they become one, everything that it has seen is shared with all the other rivers of the world. And likewise, all the other rives begin to tell of the many places and things they have seen. The river learns of fly fishing in Kenai, Alaska, of deadly snakes and other creatures in Brazil, and the wonders of Niagara Falls in North America. It meets up with the other streams that had broken off to find their own way, and also the streams that went with it find the rivers they started with.

All the waters that began the journey are now connected as one, sharing tales of the peoples they saw, the lands they visited, and the new friends they made along the way.