Mother

Alex Folsom

Recently she’s been here. Running upstream to where the trees get so thick you cannot see further than the next trunk in front of your eyes. She’s running for seclusion from the ever-encroaching development. The cities grew before she had any chance to gather her things. Head down she moves away from the pavement and the cars and the ever-taller buildings. The mountains used to be her skyline, but the buildings hog the view.

As the river bends its way toward the north she keeps a steady pace. She’s moving just fast enough to stay out of reach of anyone or anything that could block her progress. She thinks she understands where she is going, but it’s just an instinct to run.

Running was inevitable as she was born with one foot out of the door. She could see our intentions before we could. Her eyes permanently fixed on the horizon; we all should have known she was bound to leave. We’re not hurt because she left, but in the way that we made her leave. She owned us all and we shunned her without even realizing it. Even as we realize we have ruined her, we continue to drive her further away. I do my best to keep her close at hand, but even I, the one who loves her deeply, chip away at her resolve until she cannot stand to see me. She won’t last for long and I alone cannot help her. Hopefully enough trees will survive to hide her from us as we continue to chase her away.

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© 2009

1:3

Corban Goble

Arna Hemenway

Alex Folsom

Photo by Margret Hall