Blink

The Draw

I climb the steps to the bridge overlooking the river, out of breath and empty after my run. The water here is a shallow, pebbled flow, fifty feet below a platform that sits on an old railroad support.  I know this water, this river, like I know the sound of my name.  My heart beats so hard, my chest pounds against the rail as I lean on it, again, again, again, pushing me away.

I rise to stand on a part of the railing halfway up, so only my lower legs are braced against the downward pull. I am holding on, leaning, looking.  Below me is a lone fisherman, enjoying the cool water on his legs, his jeans rolled up to his knees. He is looking at me, watching.

The Pivot

We stand there for a few long moments, guaging each other, and I understand that he thinks I am going to jump.

And for just a moment, so do I.

Then I drop down, back onto the platform, my hands still gripping the rail. I look at them like they don’t belong to me. Then I turn and with a final push, finish the long run home.

Tags: bike trail, Percival's Island, river, Writing