Lost Downstream
Our father was an ancient river god. We, his fish, speared by his glance, gutted ‘til our mangled hearts bled, steeped in his ale-soused breath. Our mother, a river nymph, soothed the torrent to keep us afloat in our fragile paper boats.
He turned younger through the years, through our unmooring, softer and dryer, until we aged past him.
We fidget, watch his body drift, forget its strength, his eyes losing themselves in quilt patterns. We cast our old answering-back voices about over his head. Pinch his fingers, hard. Trying to bait the fierceness we were once so afraid of.
Photo Credit: Janine Pauke
nice piece of writing man, kind of oracle.
Thanks so much for the post.Really thank you! Great.
Thank you. A touching way to address the tension and mixed feelings for those of us dealing with aging parents.
Many thanks, Janice, glad you enjoyed it.
One of my Top 5 favorite reads on this site. So good. Thank you for sharing.
Hi Anna, thanks very much for your feedback, I’m glad you enjoyed it.