Libing

The old man rushed to the eldest's side and reached into the cold, unforgiving river.

His hands felt numb, like they had been burnt by a fire. But with the little touch he still had, he felt the arm of the lazy boy.

He tried to clasp his hands around the arm flailing like a fish, however his left hand refused to close tight and formed only a loose grip. He could feel his grip on the boy begin to slip.

"No..."

The two men's grit were being tested; Their grip was anchoring one man's life to the Earth.

But, it was not enough.

The flailing of the arm began to slow, as if it had realized the futility of fighting Mother Nature.

The old man could feel the sudden slack in the arm, make its way up his arms, down his torso, and into his heart. The weight of that slack threatened to take the old man with the lazy boy into the cold rapids, accepting his fate.

But from behind, someone had made up his mind. Another set of hands, threw itself over the arm--and no clever remark this time.

The three men dug deep, and heaved the lazy boy out of the water, and back on the ground where he belonged.