Water Under the Bridge

This morning I had an appointment north of DeRidder.  That is a pretty good drive for me.  It gives me time to pray and think.  It was an overcast day and mist was falling.  I had to keep my wipers on intermittent for visibility.  The grey day matched my mood.  Ever feel like that?  As I drove on LA 26 west of Oberlin, the sprawling metropolis of Mittie loomed before me in my headlights.

I put my blinker on to make a left turn right past the Ouiska Chitto Creek bridge and bounced down a sandy path to the side of the creek.  Heavy rains that had swelled the creek last week had diminished somewhat, but the creek was still flowing pretty good.  I killed the engine and stood on the bank listening to the soft sounds of the current flowing around willow trees lying on their sides.  It was peaceful and nice.

Looking South

In the summertime this area is teeming with people.  You can see rope swings in the foreground hanging dormant until summer arrives again.  The Ouiska Chitto Creek has white sand beaches, a rarity in these parts.  The water is "tea stained" but clear.  That's not common in this neck of the woods either.  Most water around here resembles chocolate milk.  I listened as a a group of crows cawed in the distance and suddenly remembered that a group of crows is called a 'murder.'  That's strange.

Looking east

I turned my attention toward the north.  That's the Ouiska Chitto Bridge.  That is the drop-off point for the canoe rentals that we go on during the summer.  All quiet now.  The current in the creek makes ripples on the surface and soothing sounds as it passes by.  The creek eventually empties into the Calcasieu River on its eventual destination to the Gulf of Mexico.

Looking north

Forgive the melodramatic ramble, but as I stood watching the water flowing under the bridge, I thought of the saying, "water under the bridge."  The definition of that saying, courtesy of Wiktionary, is "Something in the past that cannot be controlled or undone, but must be accepted, forgiven, or forgotten."

It seems like as time goes, we seem to collect experiences that fall in this category.  Things happen that you can't control.  Disappointments mount.  Mistakes are made.  Perhaps hurtful words said.  Circumstances you regret.  It's water under the bridge.  Although it would be nice to simply forget some of these happenings, that's often not the best course of action.  Many times it's best to accept them.  Own your frailties and warts and resolve to get better next time.  Most times its best to forgive.  Allow words that cut deep to scab over and heal and let that water just keep on flowing to the Gulf of Mexico.