Thirsty

Sweltering.

Desperate.

Dry.

Parched panting.

Sweat cascading down.

Hot wind whips.

Blazing sand chafes.

Sun strikes earth, searing air into transparent flame. And every second my core craving grows.

I am thirsty.

Step after dragging step, I finally reach the swinging double doors and collapse into a wooden chair. Smoke curls from thick cigars as a drunken song reels through the room. Snoring patrons clutch empty tumblers. Feathered, painted women hang on men hunkered over a game of poker. And on the shelf behind the bar stand bottles of flavorful forgetfulness.

I seek relief.

“What’s your pleasure, traveler?” calls the mustached bartender as he dries a yellowed shot glass.

“Water,” I utter faintly.

“What?”

“Water,” I cough.

“That colorless stuff?“ the bartender cackles and wipes his hairy nose. “That’s for children. Why not something more grown up, like this full-bodied beer?”

I lick my cracked lips. “I just want some water.”

The bartender points toward the shelf of glinting, boxy bottles. “If you want something that’ll put the spunk back in your spirit, I’ve got the best whiskey in the state.”

I shake my head.

“Brandy, then?”

“No.”

“Rum?”

“No.”

“Club soda?”

I curse.

“Water. Where the devil do you keep the water?” I demand.

The bartender scowls, marches outside, and returns, slamming the shot glass in front of my sunburned face.

“There,” he says flatly. “Compliments of the horse trough.”

Thin, green ooze coats the liquid’s surface. Flecks of brown matter revolve in the cup, trapping an unfortunate insect. It thrashes for life. So do I.

Unthinkable. Undrinkable. Unacceptable.

I waver to my feet and stumble toward the doors.

“Come back when you’re man enough to drink something real, you idiot!“” the bartender yells from inside.

White sky. White heat. White death.

I am still thirsty.

Suddenly, I spy something green in the distance. A bush? A tree? A mirage? Not disappearing… Buzzards soar in sickening circles overhead. I urge my carcass onward. Just a few more steps and…

Merciful shade!

Refreshing shade!

Luxuriant shade, snuffing out sun’s anger.

And music. Not of winds or brass. But the fluid tinkling of a brook racing over, under, around smooth rock, scattering bubbles across the pristine expanse of a deep, blue pool. A living spring.

I’ve arrived.

I plunge my hands into the crystalline water and bring them to my mouth again and again and again. Cool, clear droplets checker my cheeks like tiny diamonds. When my mind clears, I lift my hands toward heaven and shout in triumph. Thankful tears course down my face and drip off my chin, making ever-widening arcs in the water.

Then I toss my dusty rags aside and dive deep.

Into relief.

Into life.

Into pure delight.

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life. ~ Revelation 22:17