A Memory

They wouldn't let us go close to the banks. But we would. We would hold hands and run towards the glistening water. I remember jumping over little spots of goat shit, careful not to spoil my shoes. Finally just as we'd reach close enough to the river, we'd look behind to see our mothers screaming, urging us to stay put and not go too close to the water.

We'd still hold hands. It was safe that way.