“Woo woo,
Dee bop bop,
Woo woo,
Dee bop da,
Wade,” yowled The Child.
“What are you doing, Child?”
“Wading, Prophet. Just wading my feet through the water.”
“Then, wade, Child.”
“Prophet? Yesterday was the hammer, wasn’t it?”
“Yesterday has passed, Child. Today, you're wading.”
“And what will I do tomorrow?”
“Is the water warm?”
“No,” The Child said, and in her melancholy voice, she yowled like a motherless panther,
“Woo woo,
Dee bop bop,
Woo woo,
Dee bop da,
Wade.”
She looked in the clear blue water; time was moving quicker than she desired. Soon Mr. Whale and Mr. Eagle would be on their way and the lily pad would be in a nice cosy cove for restoration.
"Now that I'm used to everything I have to do something else,” The Child mumbled softly to herself.
“Did you say something?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does matter, Child. You matter. You need to practice what you’ve learned.”
“Why can't we keep going? It's so nice just you and me, and the lily pad, and Mr. Eagle, and Mr. Whale?”
“Do you think you would be contented wading your feet in the water all the time?”
“Will I see them again?”
“They’ll meet you around the bend.”
“When will that be?”
“Whenever you get there, Child.”
The Child sighed.
“Thank you, Mr. Whale.”
“Gaaaak,” she mimicked to Mr. Eagle.
“Love you, Lily Pad.” And her tears fell.
She lifted her head toward Heaven, and in her pain, from the depth of her soul, she yowled,
“Woo woo,
Dee bop bop,
Woo woo,
Dee bop da,
Wade in de water,
Wade in de water, children,
Wade in de water,
God gonna trouble de water.”
“Oh yeah,” shouted The Prophet,
“Keep wading, Child.
God gonna trouble de water.”
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
