Little River and the Ocean Roar

Dear Ms Nixie,

I was wondering if you could help me? I have a mouth but do not eat. I have a bed but do not sleep. I always run but never walk. I murmur but never talk. I have a head but never weep. I have a bank but never store money. I have found myself besotted with the ocean and fear rivers aren’t nearly as influential. Would you have any pointers? There’s just so many other beautiful rivers and fertile deltas, all of them wanting to end up at one prize location….ocean side. You see I’m also not a perfect river. I’m not some little streak of a stream, slender and bubbling in the brook of youth. Oh there’s been times of drought when I gave that look a good go but then oh, the rain, the rain, so sweet a drop to swell the edges and call the curves to greater life. Oh I’m no grand Mississippi by all means but I have tributaries that search for the touch of that wild, beautiful, free heart. I wait presently day by day, as an inlet, for the rain, for the gorgeous storms, to take me open to the sea.

Yours truly,

Little River

Dear River,

Ah, how splendid the first River to meander it’s way here to this, my advice column. Little River, you my friend are an artery! You must not be severed. You must remember that! You must not give up. We must not give up on rivers or oceans. I will not give up on you if all us fails. You, play your part in a vast ecosystem, in the survival of billions of people. Remember that time, that downright boggy patch of you, when all that was left in some places for a time was muck and it felt that boots might trample your very soul? Remember the terrible winter? Remember when glacial meltwaters didn’t want to sustain life in you as much as you wished it to feel warmer? Remember the Summer, the Spring, the dancing birds, the moments where lovers walked beside you? Remember the little boy, the little girl who swam in your arms and they loved you. Yes, there were troubles. There was people building bridges over the troubles though too. You were dumped on. You were littered with butts and maybes and “we’ll worry about that laters”. People used you but people came with doctors of the unusual kind, nurses with a clean up crew and science buffs. Perhaps you were more perfect than you thought on some days. I always tell people, or Rivers, in this case that perfection is in itself imperfection. Remember your unique self! BTW you do not weep? Best you keep being honest. We both know rivers weep. We both know The grand ocean weeps too. Don’t be too afraid of that. People need to know, to help you. The smell of you, the look of you, the taste of you, the parts of you that go missing, the changes, the weeping is there if people delve deep enough.

It’s a beautiful roar alright in the depths of our ocean. Just you remember now, those rapids aren’t too shabby after all. Keep on flowing now. 

Yours Truly

Ms. Nixie Nicla