Recently, I believe as a result of my surgery, I lost my appetite. My hunger for food is pretty much non-existent, while my appetite for liquids knows no bounds. Literally.
The other day, while walking Bacon after a rainstorm, I looked at the water flowing in the cement troughs down the side of the road. It looked so delicious it was actually tempting to kneel and drink it. Of course I didn’t. No, not of course, I don’t think there is really any “of course” about it. I managed to prevent myself from doing so. Yes, “managed” is a better choice of word. Perhaps seeing the rivulet reminded me of the tiny little streams in Rhodesia, particularly in the Eastern Highlands, from which I often drank as growing lad. Such delicious water, untouched by man, filled with minerals absorbed from the rocks over which it flows. The memory of the taste of crystal clear, clean water…
A memory of what I had, yet have no more.
I remember the sweet waters of our youth well. Clear streams, crystal clear.
In fragrant meadows.
I’m sure they’re still there, sad for me I’m unlikely to have a chance to find out for sure.
And I remember NOT being allowed to drink them by my older brothers and yearning to taste them!
I’m trying to think why your other brothers would have denied you, I would never do such a thing :). You were only about three years old, so I’m pretty sure it was to protect you. I do remember that you and Libby weren’t allowed to swim in Bridal Veil Falls though, most likely for the same reason – love.