WATER TO WATER

WATER TO WATER

I sleep, then I wake, then I listen to the bustling sounds in the ward, then I eat, then I read, then I write, then I roll over and sleep again…

Some people might say 

“This is the Life!”, but I remember…

Walking in the mountains, the crisp mountain air, the smell of fresh wet vegetation, the fierce sun that surprised us as we rounded a corner in the rock,

I remember every bend in the Bridle Path from Constantia Nek to the dams – Hely Hutchinson, Woodhead, De Villiers, Alexandria and Victoria.

I remember my morning walks along Tafelberg Road from home in Oranjezicht through Rhodes Estate to first lecture at UCT

I remember the mountain hikes – 

Du Toit’s Kloof, Bain‘s Kloof, Robertson to McGregor, Hottentots Holland, Valley of a Thousand Hills,

And my beautiful Table Mountain, the backdrop to my life, my backyard, my friend,

My confessional! 

How often did I go up there, alone, to speak to my God, and He answered me and comforted me?

Eventually the pace slowed, the distance shortened, and me, unaware of the sickness growing in me,

And then I also remember the day we ascended from Fish Hoek, heading to The Atrium, that sharp pain in my chest, bitter taste in my mouth, my anger and frustration, spitting and cursing against my fate.

Suddenly I’m old. What the hell!

So now I sleep, then I wake, then I listen to the bustling sounds in the ward,  then I eat, then I read, then I write, then I roll over and sleep …

But I will walk in the mountains again – perhaps, even just once more, please God! 

And then I will go to the sea

Because we come from the sea and we must go back to the sea

Not dust to dust

But

Water to water.

_________________________________________

© Harry Friedland 4/8/2022

https://hjfriedland.blogspot.com/