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they had paddled so often, longing for one more trip<br />
together. She pulled from her backpack a faded Mead<br />
Composition notebook and turned it’s yellowed pages<br />
until she found the tab marking the intended page.<br />
Through a strained voice she began to read aloud an old<br />
prayer written by her husband on the faded pages titled<br />
When the Stars Emerge; “Each evening, the faces of all<br />
the angels shine with delight as the glorious presence<br />
of the Lord passes them by. Filling our sky with tiny<br />
reflections of his light. Capturing the imagination of our<br />
soul, he sends us to sleep under a twinkling and watchful<br />
eye. May the glory of the Lord guide you and the faces<br />
of the angels watch over you as the sun sets on one day<br />
and until it rises again in the next. Amen sweet baby”<br />
she whispered these words as she reached back into<br />
her pack grabbing a large container. Kayla emptied the<br />
contents into the current and prayed silently for strength<br />
and courage as the ashes scattered in the tide. After so<br />
many long days of turmoil and sorrow she finally felt at<br />
peace back on the river; she felt the presence of so many<br />
warm memories and familiar things. It was good for her<br />
soul after so many months away. <strong>The</strong> May River heals<br />
more wounds than outsiders or casual visitors can ever<br />
know. <strong>The</strong> power of the river runs so much deeper than<br />
its strong current. <strong>The</strong> May is woven into the fabric and<br />
psyche of all that dare to explore her splendor.<br />
A sharp burst of wind from the east caught her attention<br />
and brought her back to the small shell bank her kayak<br />
rested upon. It was now a quarter of ten. She made<br />
sure all of the contents were emptied and placed the<br />
container back in her pack. Using the paddle she pushed<br />
off from the small piece of land and briskly paddled for<br />
home. It had taken her six months to muster the courage<br />
to make the trip, but this New Years represented so<br />
much more than a new year, but a new hope in life. As<br />
she passed back by the old shrimp boat she reached into<br />
her pack and tossed the empty container up on the deck.<br />
It rattled around several times until it came to a rest on<br />
the empty vessel. Kayla smiled to herself, knowing all<br />
physical traces of her man were now one and total with<br />
the river that he loved so deeply. She beached her kayak<br />
and drug it half way up the trail before abandoning it out<br />
of sheer exhaustion. She walked several more paces to<br />
find Bad Dog! fogging up the windows of the Wagoneer.<br />
She was met with muddy paws and wet kisses by her<br />
loyal companion. Her cell phone broke the moment,<br />
it was her girlfriend Kate wanting to know if she was<br />
coming to the party at Myrtle’s. “Wht the heck,” she<br />
replied, “make sure they keep a beer cold for me.” Just<br />
like that, all in one chilly night, Kayla came full circle and<br />
overcame so many fears. It was a New Year, indeed.<br />
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty — that is all<br />
ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”<br />
— John Keats<br />
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