Returning without going back
The little girl is lying on her back in the middle of a shallow stream. The stream is just wide enough for her to spread her arms wide to the sides without touching the banks. Her clothes are soaked, a second skin only barely keeping her warm. Her shoes and socks sit haphazardly on the bank, waiting for her to carry them home. On the road nearby, cars drive by noisily but she doesn’t take any notice, they don’t even exist to her. Her feet are upstream and her water-darkened hair flows away from her head like algae, moving freely in the current. Her eyes gently close so that all she can see is the dance of shadows behind her lids as the leaves stain the sunshine various shades of green. Her ears are just below the surface of the water, she listens to the music of the water flowing along the pebbled streambed and the dim echo of songbirds in the world above. She hardly even feels the bottom of the stream beneath her back, there’s just enough mud under the rocks to allow them to sink ...