Story based off of a news article.
Sparkling, clear water parted alongside my hull. I pierced slowly through the still river, creaks emanating through steady, sedated motions. Often it was best to leave the oar hanging back, allowing the currents to guide you downstream. It was a welcome relief on my weary bones. You learn to conserve energy when you make this journey as often as I do.
“Que onda Leo? ¿Ya regresaron sus hijos?” A voice called out from the bank.
A villager was calling out to me from his hut raised above the water. He was bringing hanging laundry in from a clothesline.
“Ya ahorita iré por ellos.” I yelled back.
“Con cuidado, eh. No sé qué harían sin ti.” He said, amused.
“Ajá si.” I gave a grumble under my breath.
He laughed and went back to it. I moved past his residence. It seems the people have gotten accustomed to my recurring ventures.
As I went further and further down, the tranquil stream morphed into rushing waters. A particularly strong wave shifted my foot and it fell upon crinkling bags.
I hastily looked down to make sure the packages were ok. Nothing was damaged. These scraps were something I pooled together from the money I earned working gigs around the village. That, and the aid sent to me from cousins overseas. Combined, it was about enough to keep supporting my little family.
The single pathway eventually split into numerous groves as I reached my destination. I stopped the boat at the muddy mangroves. I did not take a step out, knowing that I would sink into the earth if I did. There was no need to. They knew I arrived.
A hungry flock surrounded my boat. They walked closer, heads upturned in curiosity as to what I have brought today. I always only had meager meals to offer, but they were oft elated regardless. A familiar face pushed past the crowd, snipping at the others for his turn.
“Espera, Pochito, espera. Tengo mucho para todos.”
I placed a morsel in my palm and extended it outwards. He daintily reached for it. The rest of them chirped up, clamoring for their portion. I laughed and made sure everything else was spread equally between the crowd.
Despite the absence of words, I sensed their gratitude.
I remained seated, basking in their pure emotion, for as long as I could. As much as I would’ve liked to stay, however, the dimming sun reminded me that a return was forced. I waved goodbye. My fledgelings stared at the hem of my vessel while I rowed back. They didn’t follow. They knew I would return.
The returning journey was always more difficult than the departure. The swift current that was once my friend berated me like a growing youth. I’m always able to make it back, though.
My small ship finally laid tethered to the short pier attached to my hut. I entered through a creaking, splintered door. The answering machine on my shelf flashed to signal that a message had come through while I was out. I walked over, using the spotted moonlight to guide my movement. I pressed it.
Crackles of static introduced the message.
“Ay… perdón pa, no podré– visitarte pronto. Es que tengo mucho trabajo… pero prometo visitarte el próximo mes. Espero que estés bien.”
The appliance clicked signaling the end. A moment of silence passed. I let it go. I went to lie down, allowing the soft cot to caress my worn body. The ripple of the river outside filled my ears as I held my one thought.
¿Que debería llevar mañana?
