Life

The creek

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

I remember the sound of water. The way it slowly crashed through the pebbles and slipped through the rocks calmed me. It wasn’t a waterfall with intensive water falling from miles and miles above. It wasn’t the calm lake that remains so serene too the point of being cold. It was a little creek with water running through, soft enough to calm my mind but lively enough to know it was there.

The creek had no name. There was only one creek in town and everyone knew. Nobody needed to put a name on it. I would climb down the side of the road, and hid from the cops to walk under the bridge to go to a part of the creek that no one ever came by. There was nothing there but trees, the sound of running water and silence. I came there for the silence but the water movement made me still feel alive. I came there to write my poems. I came there to sing alone. I came there to get through my first heart break. I came there to fill myself with homesickness. I came there to take my senior pictures. And sometimes I came there just to be. I wasn’t there to be a great philosopher that trying to be part of nature. I wasn’t there to be anti-social and avoiding people. I was there to be alone with my thoughts. That little creek on the side of the road was when I figured I needed to learn to keep myself company. If there are too many thoughts and too many noises in your head, may be the way to go is to listen to them all. I liked myself because I learn to like how I think.

When I was in high school, I swore to leave that town as soon as I graduated. I did and I never looked back. But sometimes, I still think about the lively silence of that creek, about how my young little teenage years were there.




A quick write on the topic of place that inspired me. A fun prompt from Go Dog Go Cafe.

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