The ditch runs from west to east for most of its course. In the summer and spring it flowed strong and steady with about 3 feet of murky water. In fall and winter it was empty, dry, and lined with black sand.
The ditch was my childhood friend. I would walk the ditch in long conversations with it, and it would listen. The ditch was my confidante and counselor. Many a challenge was resolved by the ditch and me. The ditch was my best friend and playmate. We played everything together. I learned all the fundamentals of infantry combat from the ditch, sword fighting, dinosaur fighting, fighting in general. I also learned how to run, jump, climb, yell, scream, laugh, and be fearless and happy.
The ditch taught me through our play together. It inspired me and stirred my creativity. The ditch helped me set goals. It was my mentor.
Sometimes the ditch and I would misbehave. That old ditch was a sneaky, beguiling temptor. It could convince me to do just about anything, you know, like youngsters will do. We would steal a smoke together, break bottles, read porn under one of its bridges. I would steal a bike and, when I was finished with it, cast it to the ditch who would hide it beneath one of his waterfalls. We would shoot off ill-begotten fireworks together. The ditch convinced a girl to show me her breasts, the first time I ever saw some that were not my mother’s.
That ol’ ditch was a maverick.
My parents, especially my mother, were afraid of the ditch. They thought it was dangerous and would cause me harm, turn on me one day. They thought the ditch was a bad influence.
He never did turn on me. I never gave him a reason to.
I have gone back several times to visit my old friend. He has aged well, although he seems to have withered a bit. He looks a little smaller than he did then, and his banks that I leapt from into his soft black sand filled with the fallen leaves of autumn, do not seem as high.
But he is still wise, and he still enjoys long walks and thoughtful conversation.
Epiphany 