I have spent Summers and Winters up in the Mountains of Washington State

where

I have followed trails

and ridden on old logging roads

on horseback and by motorcycle.

And sometimes

I would follow

Creeks

and Rivers

and small streams

by foot.

Alone

I would follow the running water from the safety of the river banks

which always smelled like rotten leaves and wet dirt

and I would try to ignore the way the water would be loud and talkative one moment

and completely silent the next.

I have even gone on rafting trips and taken canoes out onto the water with my friends

and in the pictures that have been taken I am never smiling.

 My mouth is always set in a hard straight line

and

I am grimacing in every single shot spanning over  30 years.

Today I thought about the Rivers and Streams, the Creeks I have explored and when I tried to picture one-

any one of the many I have been too

the only image that came to me

was

one of

a hand

gently moving the black laughing water from side to side

and that hand

…was not mine.