Farewell to a Few Friends

At the swim banquet last night I was simultaneously joyful and sorrowful. Since the joy is easily described (I was really glad I got the "Spirit Award," quite an honor on the team) I will probably focus more on the sorrow, as that is the lingering emotion.

The ocelot crouched on the ledge with a gloomy air about her. The sprinkling rain occasionally flecked her coat and the moaning wind buffeted her fur into a disheveled mess. But she did not care for the effects of the elements, as she was more preoccupied with the effects of time.

That night had been a night of celebration. The river folk had gathered to feast and to remember, to feed on the past. Many received recognition for their abilities in the river, though the ocelot had not. She hadn't expected to, as the recognitions were rewarded by age, and the greyhound was the same age as the ocelot. The ocelot knew she could never compare in ability to the greyhound. However, the ocelot had received recognition for her personality, and that satisfied her well enough.

But the night had also been one of farewells. Many of the river folk had grown to the age that the time had come that they should depart from the ocelot's valley for at least a time. She knew all that were leaving well, but three of them were closer to her than the rest. The badger, the hawk, and the wolf.

The hawk was an interesting character. His face almost looked like he had run into a cliff, but his beak still had its sharp hook to it. The hawk always enjoyed a good time. He rarely worked as hard as the rest to increase his ability, but he always managed to put a smile on everyone's face. He was always grinning and he carried an amiable aura every moment he lived. True, the ocelot did not speak with the hawk often, but she still felt very close to him. She did not know what the hawk planned to do when he left the valley, but she wished him well in any endeavors he might take.

The bagder was a gruff animal, though extrememly loveable all the same. She was strong and dedicated, a rock through troubled times. The ocelot always felt safe with the badger around, no matter the circumstance. The badger was also possessing of a superior intellect. Whenever a problem arose, whenever anyone was confused, chances were that the badger could clear things up. The badger would be moving on to a mighty stone jungle to continue her learning, and the ocelot did not know if she would ever see the badger again. The other stone jungle was not too far distant, but the ocelot did not doubt that the badger would be very busy, and she did not know if the badger would be nostalgic enough to make a return visit. The ocelot shivered to think that she might never see this friend again. There were so many memories begging to be acknowledged before the passings of time carried them away. Tears formed in the ocelot's eyes. She fondly entertaind a memory of an angry badger ranting on about the laziness of a leapord seal. Another, depicting the badger devouring half a room of food, floated across the ocelot's memory and a bitter-sweet smile creeped onto the cat's lips.

Then there was the coyote. The ocelot was not sure she could put into words what she felt about the coyote. He was not a stern kind of coyote, more like a puppy clothed like a one. He was proper and polite, but when one grew to know him even a small bit, one would see the clownish nature that dwelt underneath this exterior. The coyote was one of the few creatures that could submerge the ocelot without being pulled under the water as well. The coyote did not have an exceptional howl, but he never feared to use what skill he had. There were many sounds the ocelot would never be able to hear without thinking of him. He would, she knew, go to the same stone jungle as the badger for a short time, but then he would travel far abroad, though where he did not yet know. She also knew that the coyote was worried about moving on beyond the river and the crumbling stone of the valley. But he was not alone in being worried.

The ocelot had always denied that the time would come that she too would depart from the valley. She could hardly remember anything else. But the ocelot was finally realizing how little time she had. She had close friends, people whe cared about, leaving. It gave her a cold, empty feeling. Two more seasons and she would be in their place. Losing them was horrid enough, but next season it would be worse. More of her friends would depart for a wider world and more distant horizons. And when her time came to leave, well, the ocelot did not know how she would handle that. Time was so precious, yet so easy to lose. Feeling the keen bite of loss, she curled her tail tighter to her and shivered. Not from the sharp wind, but from a much deeper chill in her heart.

So that's more or less how I was feeling last night. It may be a bit worse now that I've had time to brood, and I don't know if I quite got my feelings across right, but it's pretty close.