River Town
I like old river towns. There are lots of curves. Roads follow the river, and rivers curve. Wichita is like that. It has a little river and a big river. Two versions of the Arkansas. According to my brother-in-law, they put the emphasis on the k for the Little Arkansas. That seems fair. Afterall, the Little Arkansas river is totally within the state of Kansas, which should bestow pronunciation rights.
I had no time to sit beside either river, but I did drive along them, and that was nice. I was in town to celebrate the retirement of my brother-in-law from the USAF. He was a chaplain. It had been a long while since I’d seen him and his family. They moved a fair bit, and life sort of got in the way. They never failed to invite us to family events, however, and we sent cards and stayed in touch, but the visits never happened. Until now. They sent me an invitation. I decided to go. I’m glad I did.
Later this morning, I’ll point the car south and head home. In the spirit of the trip, I’ll stop to visit one of my wife’s cousins in Granbury before finishing the journey tomorrow. On the way up I stopped to visit another of my wife’s brothers in McKinney. Brothers and cousins, coming and going. Family time. Catching up. It’s been a good trip so far, and maybe I’ll do it again now that I know the way and life appears to have caught up with me. Maybe next time, I’ll find some time to sit beside a river.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale