Variation on the Word Sleep

Friday, October 29, 2004

Bellingham Bay

The river cuts through the mud at low tide creating seeemingly endless islands. It's incredible how far you can walk -- fording its many forks. Maybe it just seems endless because of your age. You can't remember if you even knew the word estuary at the time. At the time it was just the inexorable draw of danger. The further you go the deeper the muddy channels get until your 8 year old feet are dragged by the current and your sister bobs behind you and your brother unable to touch the bottom. The current gets stronger as well -- if you let go you might be dragged out into the bay. Part of you wishes you could let go and drift away from them. Leave them to struggle against the current while you float. The current will dissappear once you hit the bay proper. You will float past the islands and out of the sound forgetting the others and sliding into deep ocean currents.

That's how you feel now remembering 17 years ago. You've forgotten how you actually felt then -- struggling against the current. Something drove you on, but it's long gone.