Water snake

    It was one of those days when I was sad, very sad. I do not precisely remember what made me so sad, but since I was in my youth years, it had something to do, most likely, with my love life-- during that time it seemed like that was my entire focus.

    I just wanted some solitude, and contemplated walking to the nearby river to spent some time there. As a young woman, I constantly felt the pressure of not being alone in remote locations, so going by myself in that area of the countryside was exactly something that nobody around wound encourage me to do. Although generally vigilent, on that occasion I decided to defy general wisdom, and listen to my own voice. Being by the river in those moments would have fulfilled me. I had came to understand that a simple act of meditation about something, rather than ignorance of it, may ease a possible burden, or may open doors to something new and rejuvenating.

    Now that I'm thinking, I try to establish a connection between water, sadness, and a form of desolation... What water does to a troubled soul is hard to pinpoint, but truth is, it makes one to think more about life and the meaning of it, and its proximity is generally soothing.

    So, there I was, right by the river, and found myself a cozy place to sit, rest my back, and look at the water. Near some boulders, I felt sheltered, and glad I was not as exposed. Although springtime perhaps, everything was grey: the water, ubiquitous pebble and driftwood, the sky. Whatever foliage green within the landscape, it was timid and overcome by the same grey. I was fixating relentless ripples of water as if answers to my life's questions were in there. Therefore, I did not see right away when two young men were approaching and came right where I sat. I was taken by surprise, for sure:

    "What are doing here alone?"

    "Thinking, looking..."

    "You are upset..."

    ...

    "Where is your man...?

    "My man...?"

    I guess they could not get too much from me, so they started talking about themselves, especially the one who seemed more mature, and told me his own love story. The other one commented occasionally and smiled, so I felt entertained and even comfortable with those strangers by the river. After all, it proved to be a friendly encounter. Eventually, the two men left and following them with my eyes, I saw they stopped suddenly and looked down at something. They waved at me and called me there:

    "A snake...!"

    I had an attraction for snakes since I was little. But it was not the type of attraction that people usually have for a cute animal like a cat, or a dog, and love to cuddle with in their own beds. My attraction for snakes was driven by their mystery, their secretiveness, elusiveness, or maybe the fantastic stories associated with them. To see a snake in the wild would make my day. So, I went in a haste right where the two men were.

    It was a common water snake, medium sized, with a grey skin patern to blend in with the surroundings. I put a rock on his back to immobilize him a bit, got a good grip of his jaws and lifted him from the ground. He coiled rapidly around my underarm, as it was-- I supposed-- his natural reflex when confronted. I felt the strength of his writhing, and coldness of his body. I had to grab his tail with the other hand for an even better grip, fearing he may jerk out of my fingers and bite.

    I totally disliked the sensation of his humid skin on mine. Touching his gooey body was definitely repulsive. But I had a sense that sometimes I had to do what I did not like, to get out of my comfort zone, to defy my fears and disgust, to take what's been given...  to possibly prevail... I released him afterwards, and the animal disappeared quickly through the rocks...