… thus, he sat by the river.

It unsettled him at first, the way in which the river kept moving even when he looked away. He had grown accustomed to never looking away, lest he miss something important. He never did. It comforted him now,the soft burbling that continued as he turned towards the sky or the trees. The soft noises spoke of the changes happening out of sight. Each time he turned back, the river was different. The river was very honest in this way. Sometimes, as he sat by the river, it would rain. Or it would hail, or the winds would blow so hard trees would bend and branches would break, the birds could not fly and the rains would fill the river such that it boiled and churned and took with it leaves and dirt and the broken branches. He did not move during these storms. The river taught him not to. Eventually the winds and rain would stop, the sun would dry his clothes and warm his skin, and the river would return to it’s gentle murmuring.

People would visit every now and again. Sometimes they would bring him food. Many would ask him questions. His favorite visits were from children who would ask him why he was sitting by the river.

“To listen and watch it flow” he would respond.

Some children said they did not understand and asked him more questions, to which he had no answers. Many just smiled and laughed and went to play in the river, their giggles mixing with the burbling of water.

The children were honest, like the river, and this made him happy.

After a long time he thought about his life before he sat by the river. He closed his eyes and listened carefully to the running water. There were many things he still did not understand. But he was happy, and he was grateful.

And the river murmured softly.