My dear friend.
Was the warm fishy smell of the river seeping out of the banks?
You know the smell, the one that all of us from around here mark as Summertime.
Summertime on the rivers of the Willamette Valley.
Cottonwood fiber and blackberry and a few fish heads that someone left behind.
All mixed up together as if a marketed blend for the privileged to whiff
River Summer in a package.
I bet the sky showed low clouds, lacking moisture, but blue peeked in over their edges.
And for several minutes the July sunshine hinted that it would visit, until finally it did.
Its rays penetrating through suddenly, at just the right moment.
And the water, first at your ankles. Cold, but July cold, not June cold. A cold that soon enough
This, my friend, is what I want to believe.
This, my friend, is what my heart believes.
To see other tributes to our dear friend visit her Tribute Wall.
2 thoughts on “My dear friend”
Beautifully written tribute. I am sorry for your loss. I took the liberty to follow the link to the obituary. On a personal level, never having met Kristie, I have live with chronic pain for more years than I like to count. I’ve had four spine surgeries, my last in March 2019. I was recovering well until I fell on June 1st from a kitchen stool and bruised my tail bone and other bony structures. Now, I feel I’ve climbed a mountain only to fall off at the summit. I can truly understand why Kristie walked into the Willamette. I sat here and cried as I read about her and her life knowing she is no longer in pain. I’ll be praying for you, her other friends, and most of all, her family.
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