Haibun: The Creek
With each river rock, as much as I could push or lift, we made dams and benches and walkways each summer. The creek behind our house was an endless playground. Each river rock different from the next, only one perfect at each moment was perfect for that year’s dam.
Hours and days would go by as we constructed our imaginations. Each spring as the snow melted throughout the upper mountain, each creation whipped away like an etch-a-sketch. Nothing left to show of the dam we built that raised our little swimming eddy by a foot or two. However, Spring did deliver the canvas for a better dam.
There was no Netflix menu to choose from. No Cold Stone pre-picked flavors. No lego set with only the pieces to build what they designed. The creek behind our house was the joys of stepping past what was expected and into the world of discovering ourselves, our limits, and our creativity. Unfortunately, one day I outgrew it and the day after that it was gone. That creek was a portal to a different world I long for as I try to find something besides ennui at the end of every menu and HOA ordinance in these vast, lifeless suburbs.
crowned by fresh green leaves, endless
