…in honor of World Water Day
The river at the swimming hole was blue-green, opaque in the deep pool but clear in the shallow gap above the second cascade. A little crab blended in among the tawny rocks and tadpoles hovered in the eddy as I lingered on the edge.
Dry leaves from the oaks overhead twirled down like butterflies, casting shadows on the limestone. Uncharacteristically, I jumped in without first feeling the water, craving the shock and exhilaration.
My feet never touched bottom as the water rushed over me, pulsing and clean. Each time I ducked under the surface I became the river: cold, force, motion.
I climbed up mossy rocks to feel the waterfall at my back, its rhythm shifting: now hard on my middle spine, now splashing my head.
Baptism by falls.