Water is life. What, if my life was water? What would I be? A small pond, deep, dark, covered with pretty water lilies? A big lake in the mountains, deep blue, cool and majestic? A fjord, part of the sea and still a special being of my own? Or would I be one of the many smaller lakes, people enjoy bathing in in the summer?
Actually, I hope I would be a river, as a river moves on, changing its form and size as it is meandering its way through changing landscapes.
Every river starts somewhere as a small well, often only a trickle of water, turning slowly into a small streamlet. Some of these rivulets soon join others and together they form a bigger river. Some continue growing until they are big mighty rivers, serving men as way of transportation. A few of them are famous. Some are so mighty that they form a landscape of their own by growing side arms. Other streamlets remain narrow, some of them terribly delightful, with plenty of turbulences and waterfalls, flowers blooming at their sides.
Often rivers have to take in a lot of snow water or rain and can threaten the safety of others for a while. Later, these same rivers bring fertility to the land they flow through. A river can be both good and bad at the same time.
Some rivers and streams have sad fates, being turned into canals or straightened. They are not allowed to be their natural selves. Even though it is not their choice, they adjust to the wishes of others and are forced into a corset, leading a life not determined by themselves but by rules, restrictions and force. They have hardly any current until they are allowed to flow freely again.
Flowing fast, having currents some rivers have a lot of temperament and energy, while others are more placid, calm or even a bit lazy. Some of it depends on the area they are born into, a river born in the mountains will behave differently than one developing in the flats of North Germany, but still, every stream, no matter how big, is also shaping the land it flows through. A river both gives and takes.
When the cold comes, most rivers form ice only at their edges, giving them a picturesque and beautiful look, a certain sharpness and danger. However, on the rare occasions when it gets extremely cold, the whole surface can be covered by ice. Then there seems to be standstill and the river seems lifeless. It is good to know that ice is always just on the surface. Beneath the ice the current is still running. Many human lives know such phases, too. Times of sadness, hopelessness, when life seems to be standing still and when they feel emotionally dead.
Periods of heat can dry rivers out. The water is low then, the river is becoming smaller, losing its energy. Who doesn’t know such phases in life, being burnt up by daily duties, giving what energy you have to those who need or demand it, until you seem to be almost empty.
The times of ice and the times of steam will pass. Eventually it will get warmer and the ice will melt. A river having lost most of its water to the heat will get its energy back once the evaporated water comes down as rain. What remains is water and a river flowing on, changing its course now and then, making bends, finding its way through different landscapes, sometimes being a calm little river, sometimes a big stream, sometimes full of currents, at other time flowing quietly, but in the end all rivers and streams will end up in the sea, becoming one with a water bigger than themselves.
This was written for the weekly writing challenge: <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/ice-water-steam/”>Ice, Water, Steam</a>