For the summer, I live in the desert with my family, right next to the Mojave River – literally next to it. Every day while driving to work, I have to cross this dried up river of sand.
While away at college, there were some big storms and water started to fill up the river again – not alot. The river bed is very wide and very deep. Shallow water started to flow through, enough to see the lines it was caressing into the sand.
The first day I went to work after coming home for the summer, I was suprised to see these little riverlets streaming down an otherwise barren wasteland. It made me smile; I looked forward to the drive to work. It gave me hope – that in this forsaken desert, some paradise had pushed through. I planned to drive to the riverbank one day I didn’t have work, and play in the appealing water.
But, as the week has gone on, the riverlets became smaller and smaller, sinking into the underground course the Mojave River takes, or joining the clouds in the sky. Now, there is no water, just a bridge over sand. The river has run dry.
Just as my creativity has. My muse, still lost, probably was hiding under my bridge, waiting for the perfect day to play with me in the cool refreshing river. But, with the blaring sun and the winding sand, and the dry, dry atmosphere, she has left me again, with a dried up river. I cannot wait to go to lush, green, moist, water infested Great Britain. 50 more days!!