The River

Quietly she stood at the edge of the wide and snaking water. It had been years since she had been there. Her eyes moved from the river and followed the bark of the tall oak, once a tiny sapling she had planted, up into the night sky. The moon appeared to be trapped amongst its boughs. The late night winter air settled into the curves of her face. Taking a deep breath, she looked back down at the river. Two steps, she thought, and I will have reached the point of no return. A deep breath filled her lungs with a crisp hope and she shuffled another step closer. Snow fell over her shoes half burying her feet.

Cautiously, she stretched her other foot forward and tested the surface of the water. It was solid. The river had been lulled asleep by Father Winter. With a brief prayer, she began moving slowly across the river. Each step flooded her with memories. Ice skating, sleigh rides, hot chocolate and marshmallows. Caroling, long knit scarves, snowmen, and camp fires. So the river isn't asleep. It's simply transformed. Reaching the other bank, she carefully stepped off the ice. The expanse of the water no longer seemed as threatening. Smiling from the better sense of self she had gained by this newest adventure, she prepared herself to face the woods.

*** Daily Writing Practice***