April showers have come early this year, and the creeks are running near flood stage. Spring run-off, we say. And where does the spring of our life run off to? Where is that young face and lithe body?
The photos of the person i call "me" delude me into thinking that's the person i used to be. In fact, that person is dead now.
Yes, i can remember her memories--sort of. Five years of college, living with her boyfriend in Florida. She was a VISTA volunteer in Utah, and i can tell you about all those national parks on the Colorado River Plateau. She fell in love with a Japanese-American and followed him to Hawai'i. I can tell you a lot about Hawai'i. She moved to Vermont to get a Master's degree; I live here still.
The events of that young woman's life set in motion a chain of events that, even today, i feel the ripples of.
The creek is roaring outside the window. In summer it becomes calm and tinkling. Now, in the autumn of my life, the mindstream is littered with the fallen leaves of memories--some clogging little channels and some settling to the bottom to decompose.
The creek flows on. A young middle-aged old life running its course, never able to flow backwards to the person i used to be.
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