The Water Cure(60)

We watch for snakes. We watch for animals. Gnats or mosquitoes swarm around us and we barely notice. A new noise joins the ones above, a different type of bird with a droning call, but somehow we are still not afraid.

At the border, the rusted barbs of wire, we weigh it down with branches until we can step over. It takes us some time, but we clear it. We stand for a second on the other side of the territory, breathing in the new air. Somewhere in the distance there are voices, but they seem very far away. We look back towards the house, but it is long gone. All we can see is the forest. The cool leaves, the branches.

It is fine. We are fine. We jump on to a felled tree trunk. We wrap our arms around each other. Without noticing it, touch has become easy again. We put our hands everywhere.

There is far to go, and so we do not stop for long. We push the branches with our hands, and beyond each branch is another step for us to take, even as the sound of the birds and the voices grow louder, even as we move further away, even as the leaves cut out the sunlight, and that is its own miracle. The three of us, taking step after step. Our own world somewhere past it, should we walk far enough. We move into it with no fear.