The Moment Before the Moment After

Mine was the least of the things the river took.

The hat was mine and then it wasn’t.  Just a moment of slightly slackened grip and it was gone.

At first, it was in the shallows and seemed deceptively reachable. Reaching only sent it farther and farther out, until it was well into the current, set on a course beyond my control.

I learned later that I was lucky in my foolishness.

Men had died at that intersection of rivers, deceived by the gentle appearance of those shallows.

There was still that moment with the hat right at the tips of my fingers that it felt as if I could have changed its course.

When I think of stories, I think of pivots.

Our brains are lazy. We love patterns and paths and will continue happily until change is thrust upon us or we thrust change upon ourselves.

But when I think of change, I do not think of the aftermath or even the moment where the waves catch us and thrust us into the current.

I think of that moment before, when we can still deceive ourselves, when our old world is still tantalizing the tips of our fingers.

I watched the hat ride the waves far beyond my sight.

All I remembered was the tip of the brim moving just beyond my reach.

IMG_5043

The deceptive waters of change

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s