If my decomposing carcass helps nourish the roots of a juniper tree or the wings of a vulture - that is immortality enough for me. And as much as anyone deserves.

-Edward Abbey-

I remember, a long time ago, my dad told me that I shouldn't fear death. He told me that every ending was another beginning. Death was just another beginning. He explained to me that the earth, all of it, was made of spirits. The water, the trees, even the wind…all lived, breathed, and loved. He told me that if I was a good girl, that if I respected the spirits, then I would become a spirit as well. This was before the move and the shortcut, before my mom and dad got turned into pigs.

Yeah, practice what you preach, dad.

It was back when I admired him, when I listened to every word he said because I just knew that he knew everything. So, I was a good girl. Whiny, pathetic, and naïve, but respectful to my elders and responsible in school. I used to fall asleep every night tossing ideas back and forth in my mind, so indecisive on what sort of spirit I wanted to be.

How weird of a kid are you when you anticipate death?

I can't remember what I eventually decided. What I do remember is the day my grandfather died. Grandma had passed on when I was a baby, so he had come to live with us. I had come home after school, tossed my bag into the floor and clambered up the stairs, shouting his name. It was so important that he knew what I had finally decided.

I thrust open his door, not caring if he was sleeping or not. When I saw him lying on his bed, I rushed over to shake him awake. His eyes were open…wide open. The blue was icy and blank, as if all life had been sucked out of him by some soul-thirsty vampire. And I screamed. Oh, God, did I scream…

I didn't understand. Every fiber, every miniscule cell of my being, believed he was still there, lost inside that withered shell of a body. Locked underneath my father's trembling arms, I had shouted at the old man, screamed at his corpse. I screamed for him to get up until my throat was raw and my eyes red. I didn't understand. I've been to the spirit world and back since then. And, to be honest,

I still don't understand.

A week after the funeral, mom, dad and I all paid a visit to the nearby Kohaku River. Mom pulled me out of the car, insisting that a picnic would be fun. The sunny yellow blanket flapped in the wind as she laid it out, soon after tucking her legs under her to sit delicately on top of it. That was back when dad used to gaze at her when she wasn't looking. I remember his eyes watching her sundress flap around her legs, his giant hands pushing the hair from in front of her face with the delicacy as if he was molding a vase.

I shoved my food around my paper plate, eventually snapping the tip of my plastic fork. Ignoring the soft noise of my father's gentle cues, and my mother's stifled laugh, I stood up and walked down the grassy hill, towards the river.

"Don't wander far, Chihiro!"

The blue water gushed up across the silky grass, dampening the tips of my little pink shoes. I found a hill, like a miniscule cliff, that stretched out about four feet over the flow of the river. Stretching out on my stomach, I looked over the edge at the water, watching as it flipped around in the wind playfully. I imagined the river spirit and the wind spirit running together, never getting tired, never getting old…never dying.

I wanted to be the wind. I wanted to play, too.

I sat up, turning my bottom to face the edge of the hill, and began to inch my way over the top and down towards the rushing water. The tip of my shoe caught a crevice in the dirt wall. Feeling safe, I descended quicker.

At my third step I felt my shoe wiggle loose. I let go with one of my hands, bending down to try and shove it back on. In my efforts, it slipped off completely, leaving my socked foot feeling naked and bare to the mischievous wind.

I looked over my shoulder, watching the pink shoe dip beneath the rivers surface, floating away from my grasp. The river was teasing me. I smiled and without fear, with only naivety, I let go of the hill and tumbled into the water…

The Kohaku River swallowed me whole.

I spun, the river gripping my frail body beneath its fist. It slammed me against the muddy ground, rocks grinding against my bones. Nothing was playful anymore. I felt only danger, only violence. I wriggled my tiny arms against the current, fighting as I felt my lungs busting inside my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but only inhaled the icy water.

My eyes went black, my body completely numb. I could hear it, the water sloshing inside my body, my heart gasping for air. I felt the tremors of my choking organs like the flutter of an eye-lash against the inside of my skin. The last bit of life clawed out of my body for the chance to breathe. And then, at the last crescendo of my drumming heart…

I drowned.

I swear I did.

I could feel the freedom of flying, like a cloud across a crystal blue sky. I felt the power of lightning surge through my body as I skimmed through the black storm clouds, leaving a trail of thunder in my wake. I felt the river slip its cold fingers against the palm of my hand, brushing its lips against my cheek, welcoming me to the beginning. Death was just a beginning.

And then, above all those things, I felt my grandfather as he wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me against his chest, hugging me. His warmth dissolved through my skin, heating up my cold, lifeless body and melting the ice away from my choking heart.

Then it ended. In a single, shot of a moment, ice pierced through my chest, punching my lungs and squeezing my heart, my miraculously, beating-again, heart. And something warm slid beneath my twisting body, steadying my rush down the river. My fingers found their way around two handles, my face tickled by a beautiful, soft mane. But it was only a moment.

My head busted through the surface of the water, and the next thing I knew, my shivering body was lying, face down, in the warm grass, sunlight beating down on my chilled body.

Oh, how my heart drummed and my lungs stung as I inhaled the air greedily, breathing in the crisp scent of the grass.

When I stood up, I was missing a shoe, and my clothes were heavy with river water. Yet, as I stood on the edge of the Kohaku river, my parents were still too busy to notice their undead daughter kneel down and pick up the tiny pink shoe that had lazily floated back home, to shore.

I drowned.

I swear I did.

. D r o w n i n g S i n .