Back Diving
Sometimes I swear I would have saved him.
Swear I could have rescued his breath from the icy depths into which he voluntarily dove, if only he had provided me the opportunity to play Fearless, to play Savior. I was twelve at the time, almost thirteen. I knew how to act older. I was a good swimmer.
Rationale tells me we both would have drowned that day.
Some days I can feel my blood crying out for his, and an overwhelming sense of loyalty, of family, succeeds in convincing me I wouldn’t have cared. That it would have somehow been “right,” noble even, for me to sink to the bottom with him.
Sometimes when I’m sitting next to her on a particularly pleasant Spring day, her voice loud, myself mere feet from where her thunderous movement, her shape-shifting body cuts itself over rock and bank to serve as background music to those thoughts of mine strong enough to overcome such a deafening roar, I feel her icy pulse rushing through me, liquid electricity, and for a the briefest of moments my loss sits still, lapping lazily in ten years’ time.
The rest of the time I sit, and I stare.
I stare at her unforgiving banks. I stare at the way she moves so cruelly and so cleanly, and I am amazed at how even after everything she’s taken from me I still find her absolutely breathtaking, undoubtedly beautiful. I wonder and write stories in my head about the lives she still holds captive underneath her dancing, fluid visage. And, ultimately, I battle quietly with the naïve, impulsive, wannabe hero in me. The one who assures me I could jump headfirst into her ice-cold heart and live to the see the opposite bank.
The one who lies.
Today, if not for ice-sickles hanging on nearby branches of the greenery growing atop the rock cluster on which I sit, her waters look inviting, possibly even warm. But it is still early Spring, and she doesn’t fool anyone easily this time of year. Proof of her malice manifests itself in a world frozen all around her, layers of splashing river-water quickly becoming incriminating fingerprints of solid ice.
You are so beautiful, amazing, brilliant and fabulous it makes me want to cry! =) I am very glad to have had the privilege to be a part of your life and you a part of mine. And, if you don’t keep in touch with me after the move I will hunt you down!
I heart you 4-eva!
Oh, Todd! You are going to make me teary. And, yes, you are indeed quite stuck with me. Some days I even miss (our place of employment, otherwise known as) Hades, just because we were there together, singing bad renditions of originally bad 80’s rock ballads.
Oh kerr-bear, I miss you so! I hope that everything in your world is wonderful! You are so beautiful, I miss seeing your sunny smile!
Wow Kerri. I’m speechless. This was so beautiful.
Hi there,
I surfed into your blog; you commented on Dooce.com. I am glad you are a fellow obsessor of Dooce!
I am an English lit undergraduate in England. I am currently buried in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I am in love with Hardy.
You can find me at http://www.billygean.co.uk
In the meantime, keep writing, your imagery’s good
Gilly(bean)
you are, as always, amazing
When my grandfather was a boy his 9 year old brother fell into the icy river. His 14 year old brother dove in to save him. They were both pulled under and died.
Your writing here reminds me of that….
A, and Hans, thank you (as always) for the positive affirmation. I heart you both.
Gilly(B): nice to meet you! Hooray for Hardy!
Lexis, I miss you, too! I’m glad to hear you are holding down the fort in Deer Park. Not that there was any doubt.
Buffy, I’m sorry that happened. The river in my town is extremely dangerous, as are rivers in general, and stories like yours and mine are more frequent than they ought to be. I appreciate you commenting. I don’t mean to be utterly depressing with this post.
Oh, kerri. That was beautiful and heartbreaking.
wow, that is beautiful. i went and read the other entry as well and just now realized that it’ll be ten years on march 29th that i lost my dad. it never gets better really… and your writing about it is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read.
Thank you so much B.Jewels, and Kim.
Kim, I can’t believe how close the dates/years are for the two of us. For me, it will be 11 years April 15th. You’re right about the loss never fully healing. But love certainly does appease even the deepest of wounds. Thank you again for your comment.
Fantastic writing, really drew me in and took me by surprise. Will be sure to stop back from time to time. Thanks for your comments.