The Riverwalk
The east wind was blowing which meant the weak winter sun was shining, but the cold would grate like a rasp. Raymond thought about staying home and warm, but these were the days he and Irene used to walk all the way to Point William and back so he bundled up and promised her he would go as far as he could.
When he crested the small rise outside the complex, he could hear it before he could see it.
The rhythmic, reassuring melody caressed his ears while he carefully crossed the abandoned railroad tracks, and after pausing to steady his unsure legs, he bowed his head to the unassuming majesty of the mighty Columbia River.
He tugged the fleece collar around his neck, shoved aching hands deep in their pockets, and stiffly started along the Riverwalk to the east. Cracks in the pavement sometimes caused him to stumble, but admiring the river was beyond Raymond’s will to resist and a gesture of respect in its commanding presence. When he did look away, it was to meet the gaze of wise, watchful old houses on the hill, or appreciate the delicate tips of fir trees feathering the skyline and wrap himself in uncluttered thoughts.
He slowed as he crossed the first train trestle, watching his wobbly step on the weathered wood, then continued down an easy slope. The slough to his right today was crowded with flotillas of visiting pelicans and geese, and after a short climb to a small promontory, he stopped to take in the view of Tongue Point and the cargo ships anchored outside the channel. Wishing he could go farther but already weary, Raymond braced against the wind and shuffled a few yards more toward a jumble of broken boulders. He spied the near perfect cube of basalt that faced upriver one short step down on the uneven ground.
Raymond knew this rock.
Carefully situating himself on the smooth surface, he absorbed the warm sun on his back and fresh air in his face, listening to the river splashing below his feet, the holly leaves clattering in the wind, and the bare bones of a dead alder creaking from the cold.
Squinting across the Columbia, he took a labored breath and drank the air redolent of rain from a thousand miles away.
Raymond closed his eyes and let his feelings drift with the powerful current, never in a hurry but always moving forward.
Walking back, emptiness was his shadow, but the river’s gentle roar gave him courage. He hadn’t noticed he was almost home until he looked up and saw Merle Culbertson waving from her third-floor window. She was motioning him in, and a cup of hot coffee was tempting, but he gave her an unconvincing wave and continued on the Riverwalk.
Today was a good day and Raymond decided he’d keep going.