Day 545

They say she's like Llorona, a soul stuck around the waters where she died.
Her body is only visible when it rains.
You can see the droplets form her or what she remembers being.
The mind is a tricksy thing, never remembers it quite right.

She thinks herself a little girl, remembering the last time she felt happy by the waters.
Forgets entirely that she was an old woman when her son drowned her there.
Prefers to think back to the days before he was born.
I still wonder what would happen if she ever saw him.

Would she remember and finally fade away in peace?
Would she drag him down with her?
His descendants avoid the entire river, live the other side of the country.
I still wonder if she moves through all the rivers or just this one.

She likes to play with the other children.
They call her Riachuela and think she's one of them.
Still they avoid her when it rains.
That's when she takes them home with her.

Perhaps it's because she was drowned during a storm.
Perhaps she plans it as she splashed about with them, invisible all the while.
She's taken twelve so far, their little bodies found bloated and cold downstream.
I swear when it rains I can see them still playing.