A Special Place

The white, wild water rushes towards the end of the world across the jogged unheeding cliff top. It had run down across the yellow and pink heather covered lands, rushing desperately, never finding a final destination. Flying into mid-air is it rages out and free for a second then gravity pulls it down and down, bouncing off the smooth rock slopes until it reaches the deep pool below. The mist hangs in the air all year round with the spray from the violent heavy flow. But the pool softens the blow and pushes the hasty waters out along the riverbanks. Now on urgent flow dashes post the huge solitary tree that kisses the water’s edge. By the time the river bends the torrent is now a slower ripple bouncing from each pebble and obstacle. This is a special place that one can lose all track of time, mesmerized by the sound of the waterfall behind and of the lapping at the banks. A comfortable shade can be found beneath this tree with the sound of life all around. The creaking of the bark, the bees and flies rushing around and on occasion eyes watching from the cover of the forest the other side of the water.
Drifting now along the clear fresh water a small bridge soon comes into sight. Its construction, strong and sturdy, with a little flare for the delicate cross beams that can only be seen from beneath. A man-made path leading to the bridge with a well-worn earth track leading away, up into the mountains and forests that twist away, to reminisce of times gone by, parts of old dwellings and roads that nature has taken for its own.
It was here on this very bridge, at the very center of the river, a place that can take you in either direction, a crossroads. The last day of February, in a Leap year. We stood gazing down at the waters below. The large dark shapes of the fish could be seen very clearly as they hid in the shadows. The water, an illusion of merely a few inches, when in reality deeper than any man, so clear that every stone and rock could be seen for its beauty and the colours ran wild as only nature knows how. A small Landing of sorts had been cut out of the riverbank just beside the bridge. Animal tracks of all kinds had worn the soil and grass away leaving a shingle and stone clearing just covered by the gentle waters. A place to refresh before moving onwards. It was here on this day at that time that I looked into the bluest eyes l had ever seen, the face so happy and smiling, a mass of wild blond, red hair atop a freckled filled handsome face. A crossroads in life, to hove and to hold or to lose and watch drift away like the waters below. Such a small, short sentence could hold such power, one-way would lead to happiness and future hopes the other to embarrassment, heartbreak and perhaps regret.
I often look back and feel that the turbulent waters then tranquillity is just like life, with its twists and turns and decisions to be made. We often come to turning points or crossroads in life. Do I follow the track up the mountain with its winding route of the post as a reminder every step? Or do I lay back and let the waters glide along around me drifting in another direction? Or do I retrace my steps to the turbulent thunder of the waterfall.