Fire Downriver

I remember when Mom was in love.  She didn't act different, just calmer and more determined.  Who would've thought of oaks left in the canyon but there they are.  Sage, twin fawns, white-tailed Kites, vultures, and ospreys carrying fish, carrying sticks, crowding the oasis.  A fire helicopter stirs up a wall of distance. We ended up hating John at the pizza parlor.  We loved him before she did. He was ours until she stole him from us that summer.  Then, Dad was the dangerous Class VI it would do no use to scout. John was good with ropes and with the necessary triangulation, carefully and somewhat tediously calculated for the best advantage. Victims.  Which we obviously were, which she obviously was.  The most important thing to remember if you dump over is don't panic.  Wait for your chance to breathe.  Wait out all those bubbles.  Then find the tongue.  Point your feet downstream and look for the nearest eddy, the nearest shore. That's what you want to find. And don't forget to swim.