A Moment at Ipsut Creek

The many fallen white tree trunks rest on the empty river bed, decaying slowly, yet, retaining its former glory.

The stones and rocks on this dead riverbed are all white, grey, and reddish toned. They all have the same rounded soft edges formed over years of water flow. The relatively smaller river that is before me is joined by other branches of random streams; the water itself is a turquoise blue tinged grayish color. It is crispy cold.

The water gushes down, drowning out everything else around; an endless gush,

as millions of tiny water particles merrily trip and fall over thousands of rocks underneath; dancing along the way. I imagine this water must be melting glaciers from Mount Rainier. 

Right in front of me, I look up to see the colours of the sun setting behind a giant mountain. I can see why the hiking trail here is called the Wonderland Trail. This water stream is a mere 1/10th of its original size, leaving the river bed rocks and a slightly dampish sand that is a dark maroonish purple-tinged brown.

I sit here and watch the magical dance of the sunset fall on the rocks and trees, right above me. 

It is at first, a strip of the golden glow of rays falling along the mountain. It continues to stretch in length as it also slowly disappears as the shadows move in sync with the setting sun. Then the glow turns into a hazy yellow and dulls. For the last few minutes, the sky and everything the light touches retains a glorious purple above the clouds. The gushing water, unaware of this glory, glows a bright whitish grey, as it continues hurriedly along its path along some unknown creek, forming waterfalls and feeding the earth and river banks until it eventually meets whatever predetermined sea.

The purple peachy glow has now resided. A light, blue greyish hue takes over the sky. The valley is still bright, highlighting the last few seconds of light as it fights to keep the day alive for a split second longer.

I send my sister silent birthday wishes for the 23rd of September, hoping this 30th birthday of hers is as magical as this moment. I feel at peace, at a comfortable equilibrium with the universe. 

The river is now a cement-like bright dull blue white and the foam of each little wave of current forms for a second and disappears in a flash. The many fallen white tree trunks rest on the empty river bed, decaying slowly, yet, retaining its former glory.

This is life and death, intertwined. We are here for a moment as the clouds turn a dark shade of grey and the shadows of the pine trees form, ever ready for the night.