Down By the River

Down By the River My dogs and I walk along the river every day. The river is a wonderful place to walk. Trees line the walkway. The grass is a thick rich green. Wild plants grow along the bank including a blackberry bush I can’t reach. The people I run into, all ages and walks of life, smile and say hello. One day I had a lovely conversation with a bitty little girl who told me about her dog and two cats. The river is a place to walk when you are tense or upset. The fast moving water is soothing. The river is a place to walk when happy. Its waters sparkle with laughter. Each day, in the same place, we pass an elderly white man sitting straight backed in a wheelchair. His face is weathered. His long hair must have been confused when it was time for it to turn grey. Instead it turned a sun yellow. We say hello every day as he rolls cigarettes. Beside him are drinks and snacks and a small brown paper bag that I believed held his lunch. Sometimes people sit and visit with him. One is a younger man with a guitar who I’ve decided is his son or grandson. One day he isn’t there. I keep walking. The next day he still isn’t there. I become concerned and pray for his safety and health. The third day when he isn’t there I worry. I also realize if anything happens to him I will never know. There wouldn’t be a note left for me by the fountain or a person waiting to tell me. He would just disappear. The fourth day he is sitting in his spot rolling a cigarette. I say hello as the dogs and I walk by.