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Writer's pictureGabby

When will we reach a place to rest?


This series is mostly about the physical spaces where we spend our days, but there is always room for a story. I wrote this a couple of years ago for a daily 30-minute writing challenge incorporating water as a theme, character, or element of each story. Though this is an imaginary place and fictional situation, I do find myself traveling here during biblical meditation and prayer time. Read and share your thoughts (or imaginary places) in the comments!

 

Sweat was pouring down her body from every place imaginable. It was hotter outside than it had ever been. Though she had prepared for this desert expedition, she soon realized that she did not bring enough water.


“Susan, let’s keep moving.”


Oh, Timothy. He was always walking ahead. He brought enough water for this trip.


Susan took another step forward and felt a bead of sweat travel down from her armpit to her elbow. It sent a shiver up her spine. To distract herself, Susan concentrated on her breathing. Breathe in through the nose- nostrils stretch, belly expands, knee drives up, extended leg leans forward. Breath out through the mouth- air rushes out through pursed lips, stomach squeezes in, heel drives down to the sand below.


Her mind is refreshed. A sense of calm spreads throughout her body like a wash of water on the shore. As she moves through the desert like a weightless breath, Susan follows Timothy. He knows where he is going as he walks through the winding dunes in the desert.


The sun. The ginormous sun that beat down on them for hours finally begins its descent. The hot, pulsing orb slowly falls to kiss the tops of the sand dunes at the horizon. It was a sweet image after a long day. The air got cooler and her body felt charged from the great deep breaths she maintained despite the bitter taste of dryness in her mouth.


“Timothy, when will we reach a place to rest?”


Timothy turned around. His hair had grown longer by then. It always had the most beautiful wave. He was more gorgeous than he knew. His eyes met hers with a loving softness despite his exhaustion.


“If I’m following the map correctly, we should reach our next stop soon. There we can refuel and rest.”


He turned back around, the hair under his bandana bobbing to the beat of his steps. His water bottle, empty, clanked against his pack as a stinging reminder of their weakness.


Susan continued to step carefully through the sand. Her feet sank with each step. She never experienced sand like this, except on the beach. As a child, she and her brother would lay flat on the waves and feel the ocean move them softly. She remembered her efforts at skimboarding. A delicate flick of the wrist to send the board onto a shallow wave on the shore, then she’d run and try to hop on the board as steadily as possible. Often, the board slipped under her feet and instead of skimming across the surface of the water, her feet would squish deep into the sand.


As she awoke from her memory, Timothy had stopped walking. He turned around with his arm outstretched. His chapped lips drew tight against his teeth. He slid his sweat-soaked bandana off his head and into his pocket. Beyond him, Susan saw a great river flanked by trees with their roots curled over the sides of the bank and into the rushing water.


A river had never pleased her so much as this one did. She let out a great breath and ran with Timothy to the edge of the water. With the sundown, Susan felt the first shiver of night. The sweat that had covered her throughout the day dried up into the cover of salt. She looked hungrily at the water. This was a sweet gift, a sweet surprise.


Timothy grabbed her hand and they leaped into the water. The rushing music of the river was deafened as they held their breath below. Every hair on her arms and legs stood up in the cool, refreshing water. She did not know where their journey would take them next, but this was a moment she would hold onto.


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