The River of Time

My 50th high school class reunion inspired this short detour into the confluence of fantasy and fact. Does any part of Ella’s journey resonate with you?

Ella found herself atop the moss-covered stone bridge, her eyes transfixed by the dance of the river below. It was a restless serpent, turning and twisting, allergic to convention. It reminded Ella of her own life story – an abstract painting on a canvas of time as fluid and impulsive as this coursing torrent.

She cast her mind back to her childhood when hours seemed like days and days felt like infinity. She fondly remembered endless summer afternoons by the riverbank with her grandad. His mellow voice narrated tales of distant lands lulled against the symphony orchestrated by the rippling water, a soundtrack for their shared solitude.

Her teen years dawned on her like a tidal wave. Full-throttle love delighted her. Heartbreak tested her resilience. Dreams blazed like fireflies in the dark sky. Her existence was anything but boring, a nonstop torrent of thrilling detours and sudden descents.

Then arrived one remarkable moment when everything changed. James graced Ella’s world. Their spark mirrored the intensity of white water. Before she knew it, Ella found herself engulfed. James was an adventure story brought to life. He drew her towards unchartered waters layered with passion. The rough rapids of experience strengthened infatuation into true love.

Sharing his orbit was an exhilarating rollercoaster ride, an encyclopedia of cherished recollections. With unwavering enthusiasm, Ella and James faced each obstacle, savored the view from every summit, and treasured the serene pauses gracing their shared exploits. They meticulously crafted memories into a profound tapestry adorning Fate’s meandering stream, infusing it with joy, tranquility and meaning.

Inevitably, The Great Magician of time conjured unforeseen torrents in their placid existence. Tragedy struck when James’ body began to fail him. Their once-tranquil tributary transmuted into a tumultuous hurricane of suffering and sorrow. They braved the tempest together, until he slipped away like driftwood on an outbound tide.

In the storm’s wake Ella’s life whirled into an inert abyss. Her autobiography became a succession of empty pages, frozen in a haunting, silent pause. Grief consumed her. Its icy clutches suffocated the resonant river of life, leaving a sorrowful bog of distant memories.

After every dark and stormy night comes the dawn. Ella finally summoned her remaining strength to paddle towards the faint glimmer of hope a new day bestows upon us all.

Life resumed its choreographed waltz with Time, propelling Ella along its capricious course. She rediscovered the vibrant threads of exuberant existence. Excitement and intent so mixed to further enchant her. The journey meandered through undiscovered countries, revealing fresh vistas, beyond that place where fairy-tales end.

As her own time grew short, Ella revisited the ancient stone bridge. She reminisced about the flowing flood below and the unpredictable twists and turns she had navigated. Age painted her hair with streaks of silver lightning. Lines across her forehead bespoke battle scars, testaments to Ella’s courage, fortitude, and resilience. The river mirrored a meandering consistency. A bit deeper for the inexorable press the water, it found its way over, under, around and through every obstacle. At last, Ella understood. Beauty was indeed embraced best amidst chaos. Strength grew out of resistance. Agility required impediment.

As she left the bridge behind, Ella felt enveloped in a sense of accomplishment. The weight of past hardships lifted from her shoulders. In its stead rested a mantle of unwavering determination to embrace life’s remaining moments with enthusiasm and anticipation.

“Time is a river that never flows in a straight line,” Ella thought. With each passing moment, she became one with the metaphor, understanding its profound truth at last. The river of time had carried her through joy and sorrow, love, and heartbreak. It had shaped her into who she was today; strengthened by dejection and loss; molded into an unconquerable spirit by the flow of experience dancing upon its surface.