It is strange how almost drowning changed my perception of time. My hair had dried a few hours ago. It was only a few hours ago that I nearly drowned to death. I knew that I couldn’t have been very long in the river, or I would be dead. And yet, it had been a time suspended in a seemingly eternal moment. A few more seconds under water would have been the difference between my surviving or not. I am sure of this.

Despite the heat and humidity bearing down on me like a blanket, I shivered. I was exhausted, more exhausted than that time I had worked four shifts in a row. But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking back to it. Already in my mind I had titled what had happened as The River. It was an innocently ambiguous name that reflected none of my inner turmoil. It made it easier to think of it, than if I had called it The Time I Had Almost Died or more morbidly, The Time I Still Might Die. 

I tried calling out for help after crawling on to the river bank, before my adrenaline had run out and I became too weak to do anything at all. I saw no roads or dirt paths. The flora around me was beautifully wild, and clearly untouched. This would have scared me more if I hadn’t nearly drowned so shortly before.

The surroundings here were strikingly different from where I had fallen into the water. It defined even more clearly a before and an after The River. Even though I wanted to rest, my thoughts were going in circles vividly recollecting the time I was underwater. It had truly felt as if there had been something alive around me. Pushing me down, under and then up for a short choked breath before pulling me down again, tumbling head over heels. There had been such a loud roaring the whole time. Roaring and screaming and darkness.

The river was still close by, moving sluggishly, in an inviting friendly way. I had been unable to move far, barely able to reach the large tree I now sat under.

***

I didn’t remember falling asleep but I must have, my eyes opening after hearing a strange grunting noise. A few feet away, directly opposite of me, was a giant bear. This being the first time I had seen one, I couldn’t say what kind it was. But it was big. It had a light honey colored fur with dark spots. We locked eyes. 

After The River I had gained a newfound respect for nature. It seemed like the most natural thing to slowly nod to the bear. My body ached and even that little movement was hard. Still, I kept eye contact. Looking into the bear’s eyes was surprisingly comforting. In the river, everything had been either dark or blurred. Here and now with the bear, it was crystal clear what was happening. We were communicating with each other. This time my perceived threat had eyes and ears. There was a great relief to that.

As we studied one another, my breathing relaxed. The bear had long and luscious fur, that must have been hot in this weather. Its eyes, no – her eyes I corrected myself realizing that the bear was female, were dark brown and piercingly intelligent. Then, as slowly as I had nodded to her, she turned her head and ambled away, until she disappeared from sight.

I sighed. It had been a beautiful moment, to see and be seen. Fear seemed to have temporarily left me. With The River fresh in mind, almost nothing was as terrifying compared to that. I lay down under the tree and fell into a deep sleep.

When the next day came, for a blissful moment, I had forgotten where I was. My hand reached out looking for my blanket to cover myself, the touch of dirt instead confused me. That is when it all came back, with this realization the sounds around me abruptly seemed to turn on, the sharp cries of birds, the gurgling of the river and an incessant noise of insects.

Opening my eyes they felt crusty and gummy, such as after a long sleep, and indeed, the sun was shining strongly halfway through the sky attesting to that. The weakness from yesterday had turned into the strongest case of sore muscles I had experienced. Every stretch I did, made something pop and I swear I could hear creaking. The symphony of sounds my body was making made me smile. An unexpected optimism was rising inside of me. After yesterday, I felt invincible. I survived. Moreover, I was rested and I knew that if I followed the river, I had chances of finding civilization.

Getting up I realized that perhaps there was a more pressing matter, hunger. I was ravenous. All I had was the shirt and jeans I wore, even my sneakers were gone. I had kicked them off under water because they had weighed me down. Heading to the river took less than a minute. I stared down at it. It was nothing like the nightmarish giant of rushing water that I had in mind. Instead, it was calm and rather narrow, more like a large stream. 

Carefully, I kneeled down and stretched my arms out so that as much of my body as possible was on the river bank. Only my cupped hands were above the water. My arms had always been slightly longer than proportional to my body. That length allowed me to feel secure, keeping my body firmly on the earth, while enabling me to reach the water. Dipping my hands into the water and bringing them to my mouth, I drank many rounds in this way. I had minimal knowledge of vegetation and as far as I knew this was to be my sustenance until I found civilization. 

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Follow the river, find civilization and head home. Only three steps. That is what I told myself as I began walking. The day passed in a blur, with night coming quickly. Again, I found a tree curl under. It was a far cry from the rest I had the night before. The ground was hard, and although the weather was balmy, I longed for a blanket. The night was unclouded, the sky full of stars untouched by pollution, even the moon seemed larger than normal. Then slowly before my eyes, another light formed in the sky. A second moon was rising, a reflection of the first. As it rose I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it, barely blinking. When it rose and shined fully, I stared for a while and consciously shut my eyes. I tried to sleep but the sight of the moons were imprinted on my eyelids. I wanted to peek again, had I truly seen what I thought I had? I was afraid.

I had learned my deepest fear slowly. It was a deeply rooted fear that even The River had not surpassed or shaken. The first time I experienced it, I didn't understand. It was years ago, as I was walking with my two year younger sister to middle school. There in the grass, an intricate carving on a piece of wood had caught my eye. 

“What’s that?” I pointed and said. As we headed nearer there was no piece of wood at all. I thought it had been a trick of the eye and thought not much of it other than a small disquietness.

But then more occurrences such as those began to happen, I saw something and it wasn’t there or it was different on a second or third glance. I thought I was losing my mind, that it was slipping through my fingers. I withdrew from my friends and kept to myself. After graduating, I began again to be the more social person I had been, although never as free or quick to speak as before. My parents chalked it up as a phase of teenage angst, albeit a long one. 

However, the tricks, as I began to call them, never lasted beyond a third blink. Not looking at something doesn’t change what is there, I reminded myself. It is as ridiculous as an ostrich with its head in the sand, I continued. Neither sayings are helpful when I doubt my grasp on reality. In my mind's eye, I gathered the loose strings of my bravery that had come undone, I braided them back together and opened my real eyes. Both moons were still there. I blinked, blinked again and breathed deeply. Third blink, and they were as calmly and motionlessly there as before. I turned over and slept uneasily, the night was too bright.

The days that followed, I walked and walked alongside the river. Its role became as fluid as the water it was made up of. It was my companion, my provider and sometimes source of my fear. With my belief that my sanity was again fading, I became convinced that the river was alive. It mocked me, laughed at me and with me as well as sang little songs. Sometimes a happy tune of bubbling contentment, soothing me and at others a rushing crash of power, reminding me that it had brought me here.

Although the places I walked through were rich with plants, with an occasional tree dotted around, I drank only water. I regretted not knowing and learning more about the earth around me when I had the chance. Although the more I looked around, the more alien the environment I was in seemed. 

The famaliar ache of hunger was ever present. At times, it seemed almost like a living thing inside me, that would roar wildly. That was when I had to sit and wait for it to pass, dozing off lightly. Other times, I could push it aside and forget the pain. That became harder and harder as more time passed. The lightheadedness of hunger was a cloud that stayed with me. Heavy on my body, light on my mind, making my mind soar and my gait stagger as though under a weight. True hunger such as this reminded me of darker times, when food and eating had been a means of control. Perhaps without that conditioning, I wouldn’t have been able to push as far as I did.

***

It was toward evening that I felt that I was being watched. I was sensitive after my isolation of the past days. I walked slower and eventually stopped. He stepped out from behind a tree on my side. When I imagined coming across people, I thought I would be the strange sight. In the past few days, the jeans I wore had begun to hang uncomfortably loose, I had braided myself a belt from grass to hold them. My hair was greasy, and hung raggedly around my head, despite my efforts to finger comb it. Keeping my clothes clean had been a useless endeavor, with no soap they still stinked. Already two nights in they had become full of sweat and grass stains I couldn’t rub out, my hands hurt from trying.

And yet it was his appearance that I found more shocking. He seemed to be around my age, early twenties but was shorter than me. The brown shirt and pants he wore had more holes than cloth. Like me, his pants were held with a makeshift belt, a rope of some sort looped three times around. Although calling them pants was generous, perhaps they once had been, but the ragged hems made them look more like shorts, revealing a clubbed foot. What had shocked me the most, was the rest of his body. It was as thin as a rail full of small scars and bruises, some fresh and big others yellowed. Even after not eating for about a week, my body looked like the paradigm of health next to his. His most striking features were his light brown eyes, looking at me with an intense gaze. The explanation and request for help that I had prepared for when I met someone died on my lips. However he was not lost for words. 

“Hello.” After an awkward pause of silence waiting for me to respond, he spoke again. “Who are you?”

Embarrassingly, my mouth hung open and only a soft ah sound came out. Enunciating his words clearly and slower than before he asked, “what are you doing here?”

I must have been more affected by hunger than I thought, because I began to laugh deliriously at this.

“If I knew what I were doing here I would be doing it!” I exclaimed. The thought had made more sense in my mind than aloud. 

Whatever suspicion he had held against me, the hard expression he had until now melted away as though a mask had slid off his face. He looked to be a mixture of annoyed and amused.

“You look hungry, do you want something to eat?”

This broke me out of my giggling and weird twitching. I nodded.

“Follow me then.” Turning around, he headed away.