Charmed by the creative: A farewell.

”Hello in there,“ I whispered.

”There, there, there,“ echoed my voice back to my ears.

I was as far down in the water as I could be without muddying up my hot pink painted toe-nails.  Like going down the sliding board on my belly, my long body stretched over the ravine, leaving only my feet visible to anyone walking by.

”I know you are in there and I have come back to see you,“ I said, while straining my eyes to see from the light and into the dark cave.

You see, I knew that he knew I was out here. I would come every summer for a visit, and we would spend the week playing in the stream and talking about life under the water and on the land.  Both of us lived in each world and had a kind of understanding for the other.

Anxious to see him again, I released my hands that were holding me from slipping into the water and slid down into the mud with my clothes on and white, now brown, candy tennis shoes.

It never really mattered if my clothing was dirtied while in play, as I had packed three full suitcases for the week and looked forward to wearing each of the outfits a few times a day to ensure that every family member would notice me and comment on my choice of colorful outfits. Fashion chosen by a 13-year-old, for a 13-year-old..

I crawled a little into the cave and spattered mud all over my face, which was also ok. I now fit in much better that way.

Two large eyes were at the end of the tunnel.  It was him – he probably recognized me even though it had been a year.

”Hi,“ I said with hesitation. ”I know you didn’t expect to see me today.“

His eyes stared me down and blinked frequently.  I did the same to keep the mud from irritating my eyes.

”You won’t see me again after this visit,“ I told him.

”I have thought about this for a few months now and it just isn’t going to work out,“ I said.

His eyes blinked one at a time. I might have seen a tear drop into the muddy water, or maybe it was from the ceiling of the tunnel, or maybe not at all.  It’s all rather blurry in the dark.

”You see, I am not ready to be a princess,“ I said slowly. ”It’s just not my time and I don’t think I’d make a really good one anyhow.“

I looked over my clothes, arms and curly hair. I was completely mud-drenched.

We just look at each other knowing it was inevitably over.

Since he said not a word, I thought the best thing to do was say good bye.

I had brought him a little ring, with a small beetle fly as the charm on top, and carefully placed it on the rock.

”Good bye my prince,“ I said and then I moved backwards out of the cave.

I was very sad, and I knew he was too. Perhaps, a place on my heart was bruised, as I felt a dull pain throbbing inside my chest.

As I pulled myself out of the ditch that captured the overflow water from my aunties property when it rained a lot, I looked over the grassy yard at the top of the ditch and back down to the drainage tunnel.

The drain tunnel had been my cave for so many years, but now I could barely fit into the opening.

Then suddenly he hopped out of the drainage ditch and looked up at me.

We didn’t really need to say anything.  His large webbed feet reminded me of days past in hop scotch and other jumping games we played during my summer visits.

He knew that it would be years before I’d meet my true love prince and he understood my farewell.

Erica Newport is a daily reporter for The Bradenton Times. She covers art, culture and community. If you have a story that might interest Erica, please e-mail her using erica.newport@thebradentontimes.com address.  She also takes your questions related to our weekly theme days and provides advice and opinions for our readers.

Please use this e-mail address for Ask Erica:  ask.erica@thebradentontimes.com.