Dawn Berkoski

I took a different path towards the river.

A gut instinct, a swift decision, and off I went down the staircase near the bishop’s palace.

Suddenly I was in a narrow passage with high walls on both sides, topped with a chain-linked fence. Little did I know I had wandered down the Esacdas das Verdades.

Houses started to appear, all squished together along the steep incline, painted in shades of the sun—as if even in shadows, light lived there. And when the river peeked out, fleeting glimpses of blue between burnished-red roof shingles, I knew I was heading in the right direction.

At some point I wandered onto another staircase, the Escadas do Barredo, a microcosm of color and sensation where I found a hidden restaurant and a black cat stretching.

As I continued down, twisting and turning, I started to feel a bit anxious that I had entered a labyrinth and wouldn’t find my way out. How long was this path I’d taken?

But then a green door appeared, a beacon under a pennant banner of bright-colored flags, and I knew everything would be alright. The water continued to be my guide, the sea-salt scent of the Atlantic Ocean calling me home. My fears faded. The weight disappeared. My legs felt free, as if lifted on air.

It wasn’t long before I found the river, framed in an archway like a painting.

I emerged, landing softly to take in the view of Gaia. A gull kept me company as the breeze from the Duoro River cooled my skin. And I smiled, watching children jump into the cold water for a swim.

The children, the bird, the sea, and me,

Living our best lives.

Dawn B~