Freud in the River

 

It feels strange to be leaving. 

I don't know why. There are so few things that bring joy here. Most of them are fading in the moonlight while I close my eyes for a blink. Still, it does feel strange to leave the river behind. 

Sure, I say. There will be other rivers, I think. Only, staring at the map, there seem to be so few of them. 

The river I like stinks in the summer. It gets black as tar at night and moves with a lazy, almost predatory precision under the sharp north breeze. At night, tiny, shimmering lights race across the wavy surface - faery necklaces of pearls. It is colder than any other river I know and freezes your skin when you brave jumping in. I can only ever go as far as five, six laps at most before my fingers curl with cold. 

In spring tiny ducklings follow their moms along the gentle stream, squeaking. I always keep special attention on my dog in those days. She likes to chase after them, I guess as all dogs do, and I'm scared one day she will actually catch up with them. 

Over the river stretches a wide railway bridge. It used to be a rusty orange-red when I moved here, but turned an ugly garden green in a bother restoration attempt a few years back. I liked the orange-red. It made it look regal - almost like Golden Bridge's tiny brother. Now it looks old and tired, like everyone else living here. It screeches with effort under the weight of the trains passing it. It's gap-toothed grin looks hungry enough to gnaw off my leg so I walk across quickly and don't stop before I'm save on the ground. 

I love the bridge and the ugly sandy beach below. My dog sure loves chasing the wild swans lounging there in the summer sun. One day she is going to get the beak. 

There will be other rivers. Some of them will be flowing close by, others I will have to walk to to enjoy. But this one will be special. The coldest, darkest, most mysterious river in the world. A mother to many, a stormy enemy to the sand and rock trying to cage her in. Half-submerged in her blackish depths Freud will slumber evermore. 

Somewhere else I will remember him and smile. 

Thought, May 2021