I ate the last slice of pie for breakfast today and contemplated the river and what Bess had told me about taking a cup of water every moon cycle.
I know the full moon was a few days ago, but maybe it’s not too late.
Would I really do this?
Drink river water because of local lore that hasn’t been fully explained to me?
I mean… am I really going to drink river water?
It can’t be bad for me? There are no factories in the Northern Wood and the locals all seem to be very careful about how they garden and care for the area… and, if they’re all drinking the water.
But, what if they’re not drinking the water?
What if this is just a trick that locals play on new folks?
I wish I had just one person here that I could call a friend… one person I could rely on… one person who would tell me the truth.
Would I be mad or hurt, if in three years I find out that I was drinking river water and it was all a big joke?
Probably not.
I take a measuring cup down from the cupboard. If I’m going to do this I want to be exact. I don’t think Bess said a cup offhandedly… I suspect the amount matters.
I pull on a sweater and then my coat, I step into my boots and make my way down the side of the house and follow the slope of the ravine down to the river.
The water is merrily burbling today, just like it always is… a little song of spring, interspersed with bird call and chipmunk chatter.
I dip the measuring cup into the bank and spill out enough to make an even cup.
I lift the edge to my lips and drink it all down.