A Love Letter to the River
Allie Cunningham shares a love story for the river
River,
It was when you became sick that I truly realized how much you mean to me. How long I have loved you, needed you, learned from you. My entire life I have tried to be self sufficient, but now I realize how dependent I am, and always have been, on you.
It is funny to think that I have known you my entire life. Even though I spent most of my earlier years with your cousin Big Blue, I recall seeing you from afar. You were always drifting by our house each day to visit the cranberry bogs. You ran alongside the trails that I walked with the dogs. They swam with you afterwards to cool off, but I never joined. You always seemed busy, hosting pool parties with the swans and snapping turtles. I did not think much of you then. Honestly you were a little too intimidating for my younger self.
It was not until I went out West that I really met you. I still remember the moment. It was the end of a long day of backpacking and making camp with friends. You were in the distance and invited me to hang out. Despite feeling tired and shy, I slowly made my way over and sat awkwardly on a boulder. I just listened to your babbling. I had no clue how talkative you were. You made me feel relaxed and at home. I felt so drawn to you. The next day, our mutual friend asked if I wanted to join him to fish. Anything to hang out with you again. He told me to stand on your banks and taught me how to cast. You then introduced me to your trout friends. We all hit it off. I kept that first fly. It brings me back to those incredible beginnings of us.
For years, we were all best friends. We would hang out with the Stoneflies and Mayflies, and jam with the Cutthroats, Rainbows, Browns, and Brooks. I would wade in your current, you would dance around me. I got to know your family members— Lake, Pond, and Creek — like they were my own. I have told you all of my deepest secrets and although I wish it was a two-way channel, it may take me many lifetimes to just understand the basics of you. You are so complex on the surface and underneath that even the simplest detail of your past and present mesmerizes me.
Eventually, I caught myself looking for you everywhere I went even if I knew it was silly to find you there. I’d search for you on the high mesas in the desert or between the skyscrapers in cities. You have humbled me and shown me how to move through life by swirling and going with the flow instead of against it; to explore deeper and make a splash, but also to be still and reflect. You make me smile, cry, and laugh more than anyone else. Falling in love with you was inevitable.
River. I need you to get better. It crushes me how sick you are. Your mood swings have intensified. The doctors warned us your future was uncertain. I did not think it would get this bad. These powerful, raging floods are a new side of you that I have never witnessed. The pressure from your water is so destructive that it makes me scared to be near you. But when I see you go into a severe drought, I just want to weep for you. For us. For our memories together. For the times of hanging out with our friends — the fish, bugs, birds — some of whom have departed permanently and others who have gone to adapt to a new home elsewhere. It is not fair how your health has degraded to this extent; you have given so much to so many and have expected nothing in return. Why you?
Each day, I sit by your side and relish in your beauty. Oh, how lucky I am to have you. Your nurses come by often to monitor your health. Working together, we are trying to find ways to support you to bring you back to your glimmering self. Although this sickness is worse than any rapid you and I have run together, I am optimistic for your recovery. We have known you to break barriers. We have known you to keep moving forward, to continue to carve the path of least resistance. You will find your natural flow again and we will meander through this life, and many more, together.
May our love grow deeper,
Allie
