We all have to find something in our lives that makes sense, at least some bit of sense, of what we are beyond all of the cells and canals, fluids, beats, impulses, and energy. For some it is music, poetry, dance, the Yankees. Some work as public servants. Some work as laborers, as mothers and fathers, wives….what will I find in my life that when I find myself fallen through the thin and ice and being carried away by the accumulation of years will make me fight? What will I think of that will bring me back and make me kick hard against the current swirling, clinging, pulling about my ankles. Why will I thrash out against the ice, breaking my way back towards the shore? Again and again I find myself at this river, considering: would I fight?

And you flash into my mind! I see you at my birth, looking at me. I see myself, asleep, on my fathers chest, as he sleeps too. I see myself with Mary and Sean, laughing at the squirrel weighing his options: left, right? Left? Left. No, he goes right.

I go right. I run away from that river. The snow flies from my heels up my back. My hood is thrown off by the wind of my running. The rhythm takes over; thump and squeak of fresh snow, biting air. My eyelashes freeze together at the corners. Snot runs freely from my nose.

The river bends nearer my path again, I run harder. I can see a light building behind me. I close my eyes and run. The light is gaining still. I can feel it pressing on my back and around my head. There is a flash. I gasp and choke. I stop running and open my eyes. To my right is the river, flowing still I know, but silently. The snow glitters in the starlight. The moon is rising to the east. Gusts of wind tickle the grasses, sweep drifts across my tracks, sting my body. I try to take a deep cleansing breath, because now, I am so enlightened, alive. Stupid, it’s ten below. I choke and cough, and laugh out loud at myself.

The trail leads me away from the river. I jog messily along it, nose in the air, counting the stars. Orion points me home.