The Remembered Sound

I grew up on the Ohio River at Louisville, Kentucky. The River is a mile wide there. There are River sounds. Waterfalls flowing over fossil beds. Riverboat calliopes bouncing tunes like clouds and ice cream trucks. Frogs singing love songs. Children swinging on ropes. There are more River sounds that remind and locate and calm than I can describe. A particular remembered sound is the sound of a barge at night. Our house, where my parents lived for almost 40 years, was close enough to the riverbank to hear barges as they worked their way down stream. The slow churn of presence and motion. The powerful proclamation that some things never change. The familiar hum that immediately meant I was home. Part whale. Part foghorn. Par gear shift. Part torch song.

The Impossible Music

I have not lived in Louisville for many years. My parents sold our family home (though they still live in Louisville, just not close to the River). To this day, when I visit, I still hear barges at night. I listen and hear the same melodious comfort — the mystical breath of waves and engines — from their home on the other side of town. Impossible but true — like the magic of bluegrass in morning dew and the alchemy of bourbon — the barges still speak.

The Law of the Sound

Barges still remind me that the River carries you safely to the water’s edge if you let it. I learned this lesson getting tossed once from a raft in class 5 rapids. I let the current carry me to safety. That felt counterintuitive, but it proved true. Breathe and let it carry you. Stand and let it carry you. Fold and let it carry you. Bend and let it carry you. Stretch and let it carry you. Pray and let it carry you. Build and let it carry you. Create and let it carry you. Cry and let it carry you. Dance and let it carry you. Spin and let it carry you. Sing and let it carry you. See and let it you.

The Echo

Now, when I hear a barge, I remember home. The miracle that is knowing where you are from. The miracle that is grace and strength and power. The miracle that water breaks down stone. The miracle that we are – fundamentally – water. The miracle that water is life. The miracle of perfect time and seasons and tides. The miracle of night and day. The miracle of molting and shedding.