{"id":6769,"date":"2025-07-13T17:52:01","date_gmt":"2025-07-13T15:52:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/smama.blog\/?p=6769"},"modified":"2026-01-04T16:55:47","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T15:55:47","slug":"the-river-is-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/smama.blog\/en\/the-river-is-life\/","title":{"rendered":"The River Is Life"},"content":{"rendered":"

The River Is Life.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

One of the reasons Mima<\/a> and I grew close long before we developed feelings for each other was our shared passion for series and films.<\/p>\n

This mutual interest gives us more than just a moment of soothing distance from the world around us, or a quiet moment of closeness beneath a soft blanket.
\nCultural content we experience and share never fails to inspire.<\/p>\n

Its symbols and storylines, with themes like love, joy, or cruelty, become fertile ground for reflection, giving rise to meaningful conversations and vibrant debate. Because it is in conversation that the things which truly connect us gradually unfold.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Football is life<\/h2>\n

\u201cTed Lasso\u201d<\/a> is one of our favorite shows from our shared repertoire.<\/p>\n

With so much serious content behind us, a welcome change: something that made us laugh and lifted the weight off our hearts.<\/p>\n

In my teenage years, and even later on, I was deeply drawn to what is considered classic literature<\/em> in our Western cultural world.<\/p>\n

Looking back, I can say with certainty that this inclination led me into the dark world of Dostoevsky<\/strong> and other realists \u2013 and fundamentally shaped my rather pessimistic view of the world.<\/strong><\/p>\n

To such an extent that I became convinced that only what carried a \u201cserious\u201d and dramatic tone was truly worth seeing, reading, or listening to.<\/p>\n

That kind of tone offered insight into the difficult, often painful lives of ordinary people struggling to survive in a cruel world ruled by the powerful \u2013 those who oppress others and enrich themselves at their expense.<\/p>\n

What interested me, then, was only what revealed the harsh and sorrowful side of reality.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t understood that joy, humor, and a bright outlook on the world around us are just as much a part of reality \u2013 and in fact, the more beautiful part. And that laughter can be a powerful way to address social issues and to mock precisely those who take themselves far too seriously.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

One of the characters in Ted Lasso, a man from South America, made us laugh time and again by repeating a simple sentence in all kinds of situations: \u201cFootball is life.<\/a>\u201d<\/p>\n

Whether football really is life or not probably depends on how \u2013 and to what extent \u2013 one engages with it.<\/p>\n

For some, football is the most important of the unimportant things in life; for others, it\u2019s simply a way to relax and take their mind off everyday worries.<\/p>\n

Some see it as entertainment, others as a release valve for pent-up emotions through cheering and chanting. And for some, it\u2019s nothing but nonsense \u2013 something in which they can\u2019t find any meaning or value.<\/p>\n

Football is life!<\/p>\n

The River as Identity<\/h2>\n

\u201cWhat is life for you?\u201d Mima once asked me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Immersed in the world of the show, the question caught me off guard at first. But the first thing that came to mind was:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Sofia \u2013 you are my life.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

Family is life. As a child, I think you only sense that \u2013 without fully understanding it. At least, that\u2019s how it truly was in my case.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

But in my life, there is something else that means life to me. Something that gave life back to me.<\/p>\n

And I only realized that by chance, a few months later, as we sat, content and tired, after a three-day bike tour at the confluence of three rivers in Passau: the Inn, the Danube, and the Ilz.<\/p>\n

Looking at the clearly distinguishable colors of the Inn and the Danube, which only merge fully further down the bend, it suddenly became clear to me:
\nTo someone who grew up by and on a river, the river itself becomes a living symbol of what life truly is.<\/strong><\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t just carry life within it \u2013 it gives life to everything around it. Its calming scent, at times mingled with the smell of silt, fish, trees, and grass, is forever etched into my memory.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Whether I\u2019m sitting by the water or revising this text at my desk, I can vividly recall that scent and feel it rise into my nose.<\/p>\n

In its upper stretches \u2013 those described by Ivo Andri\u0107<\/a> in his novel and where I spent the years of my early adolescence \u2013 the Drina flows fast, wild, and green as an eye.<\/p>\n

And yet, despite all the beauty I\u2019ve seen there, I still feel most deeply connected to its lower course \u2013 the part of the river where I spent my childhood. There, the river moves more slowly, is deeper, and less vividly green, mainly because of the human effort to tame it and harness its flow for much-needed electricity.<\/p>\n

My grandfather often spoke with sadness in his voice:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen they built the hydroelectric plant back in \u201958, our two most fertile fields by the river were flooded. The state never compensated us. I used to graze the cattle there\u2026 Two large barns and all our sheds were completely submerged\u2014because of that lake\u2026\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It seemed to me that he never truly got over the fact that the river had been tamed<\/strong>\u2014and that it was thanks to this taming that we had electricity in our part of the Drina Valley.<\/p>\n

Only later did I come to understand that his sorrow was rooted in the loss of the family\u2019s best piece of land\u2014a heavy blow to our already poor household.<\/p>\n

Treasure Hunt in the Mud of Childhood<\/h2>\n

For me, on the other hand, that vast reservoir was inseparable from life\u2014it was my sea. And it still held countless secrets beneath its surface.<\/p>\n

When the water would recede during dry summer months, my cousin Janko\u2014who was also my best friend\u2014and I would go treasure hunting in the slippery mud.<\/p>\n

Alongside fishing gear\u2014mostly floats, hooks, sinkers, and the occasional lure, which were our main goal\u2014we would also find a surprising number of padlocks.<\/p>\n

These leftover relics from the submerged barns, stables, and pens told the story of the flood.<\/strong> A flood that had brought sorrow to my grandfather \u2014 and joy to me.<\/p>\n

The first time I brought home a full bag of those locks, my father said\u2014his voice laced with anger that barely masked his fear:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want with those? Don\u2019t you know they lock away people\u2019s happiness? Go throw them all back into the river\u2014right now!\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

But back then, so much misfortune hovered over our region \u2014 a land already thick with the scent of an approaching war \u2014 it was as if everyone had pulled at least three locks from the Drina.<\/p>\n

Reluctantly, I returned my haul to the water, grumbling about all the effort I\u2019d put into collecting them.<\/p>\n

Still, I secretly kept one\u2014a very old lock, unlike anything I had ever seen before. <\/strong>It was massive, heavy, with a large keyhole and a beautiful shape that reminded me of a heart.<\/p>\n

Whether it tried to seal away my happiness and my life\u2014 I still don\u2019t know…<\/p>\n

Struggling with the Depth and the Self<\/h2>\n

Wading through the shallows, poking around in the mud, fishing, walking, and herding goats along the Drina\u2014that was part of my everyday life.<\/p>\n

Swimming was not.<\/p>\n

So many times I watched my friends with a hint of sadness as they swam freely and carefree, and I dreamed of the day when I too would be able to float on my back, defy the water, and gaze up at the blue sky above me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Or to dive beneath the surface and see what lay in those depths\u2014depths that even the summer droughts never fully revealed, and that vanished completely into the darkness of night.<\/p>\n

That spiral of experience with swimming\u2014or better said, with life in the water\u2014came back to me one day as I swam with friends to a nearby buoy in the local lake near Regensburg. I was struggling to catch my breath while trying to keep my balance on a rope stretched between two buoys.<\/p>\n

A friend, surprised by how exhausted I looked after such a short swim, asked:<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it really possible that you\u2019re that out of shape?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStamina has never been my strong suit,\u201d I replied, \u201cbut I think this tiredness has a lot to do with my fear of water, because I almost drowned. Twice.\u201d<\/p>\n

And in that moment, I felt the truth finally speak through me.<\/strong><\/p>\n

For years, I had pushed that fear aside\u2014refusing to admit that I had nearly drowned, that I hadn\u2019t known how to swim, that even now I wasn\u2019t a good swimmer, and that the depth still frightened me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I only learned to swim after moving away from the Drina \u2014 in a municipal pool, not deep enough to pull me under or drag me to the bottom.<\/p>\n

Convinced that I had finally mastered staying afloat and that the river of my childhood could no longer harm me, I looked forward to my first visit back to the village and to swimming again with my friends.<\/p>\n

And on the very first day, when I saw our neighbor setting out in her boat toward the middle of the Drina lake \u2014 where my friends were already gathered on a sandbank \u2014 I jumped into the water without hesitation and began swimming toward her.<\/p>\n

I had overestimated myself.<\/p>\n

Had she not turned her boat toward me to shorten the distance, I probably wouldn\u2019t have had the strength to reach her. With trembling arms, I hauled myself into the boat<\/strong> \u2014 and didn\u2019t go back into the water for the rest of the day, claiming I was simply tired from the journey.<\/p>\n

To this day, I still see the disbelief in people\u2019s eyes when I tell them I nearly drowned twice \u2014 and that, altogether, I\u2019ve had five close brushes with death.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you even still alive?\u201d is one of the questions I hear most often.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I\u2019ve just been lucky,\u201d I usually answer.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

But that luck has a name, a body, saving hands \u2014 and a permanent place in my memory, for as long as my life lasts, however long that may be.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I remember clearly both times the water almost took me.<\/p>\n

Especially the moment when our neighbor, in a casual conversation with my parents, said:<\/p>\n

\u201cA drowning person comes up three times before the water takes them.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

That sentence carved itself deep into my subconscious.<\/p>\n

Three times<\/strong>\u2014that was the first thought that crossed my mind both times I went under.<\/p>\n

I counted each surfacing like in a duel, where the opponents slowly approach one another \u2014 step by step, toward death.<\/p>\n

Even now, my legs grow weak when I think of those three moments of coming up for air.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The struggle to free myself from the pull of the water dragging me down, and the haunting question of how much strength I still had left \u2014 that\u2019s what stayed with me.<\/p>\n

Did it last long? Yes, a whole eternity!<\/p>\n

Silence, the Paddle, and the Red Lifeline<\/h2>\n

The first time I nearly drowned was on the day we in the village used to call the \u201copening of the season.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

My sister and I were playing carelessly on a boat, tied up at the small village dock just below our neighbor\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember whether it was January or another winter month, but I do remember the cold \u2014 and that I was dressed warmly.<\/p>\n

While I stood at the far end of the boat, leaning forward and staring into the water, my sister gently pulled the boat toward the shore. It shifted \u2014 and I made what was probably the best dive of my life, straight into the river.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Shock and fear surged through me. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to breathe \u2014 but water rushed into my lungs instead.<\/p>\n

Frantic, uncoordinated flailing of arms and legs pushed me briefly to the surface<\/strong>\u2014just long enough to do nothing at all, not even to call out for my sister. Then I sank again.<\/p>\n

The second time I came up, one thought took hold of me: just one more time\u2014and then it\u2019s over. When I surfaced the third time, barely getting my nose above water, I knew I didn\u2019t have the strength for a fourth.<\/strong> My winter clothes were now heavy with water, and even the last spark of hope was fading.<\/p>\n

I remember the overwhelming despair at that moment.<\/p>\n

Could this really be the end? Was this how life simply stops and goes dark?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And just as I began to surrender to the river, luck looked me in the eye\u2014and the water let me go.<\/p>\n

My sister had finally reacted and reached out to me with a paddle<\/strong>\u2014really just a stick with a broken red traffic sign attached to it. If it hadn\u2019t been for that bright red stripe on the remaining piece of the sign, I might not have even seen it in the murky water that was pulling me down.<\/p>\n

I can still hear Jeca\u2019s voice, muffled through the water:<\/p>\n

\u201cGrab the paddle!\u201d<\/p>\n

I was furious at her\u2014for taking so long to act. But now I know that what felt like an eternity to me was probably only a few seconds for her.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I remember walking back to shore, going home, and taking off my soaked winter clothes as if from a third-person perspective. It felt like my spirit had separated from my body and accompanied it until it could finally return.<\/p>\n

Both of us\u2014my sister and I\u2014tried to dry our clothes as quickly as possible so that our parents wouldn\u2019t notice. We were afraid they might scold us or even hit us.<\/p>\n

There was no time to show fear.<\/p>\n

I was alive. That was all that mattered.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The second time I nearly drowned didn\u2019t happen at the start of the season,<\/strong> but in the middle of it. I remember the sweltering heat and how all my friends were already out on the sandbank in the river, swimming and playing. Once I had finished my chores at home, my parents finally let me go join them.<\/p>\n

I stood on the riverbank, separated from the sandbank by a man-made channel that had been dug long ago. I didn\u2019t want to go back home\u2014not now, when I was finally allowed to swim in the refreshingly cool water. I called out and asked someone to come pick me up by boat, but no one responded.<\/p>\n

Determined not to give up, I came up with a plan in my head: since I couldn\u2019t swim, I would just walk across the channel underwater to the other side<\/strong>, where the shallow part began. It sounded perfectly reasonable\u2014at least to the mind of a boy who had read too many fantasy novels.<\/p>\n

But my brilliant idea turned out to be a complete disaster after just the first step.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

As soon as my foot touched the water, it slipped on the muddy bottom, and my whole body slid into the depth.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The same familiar pattern followed: once, twice, three times\u2026<\/p>\n

And once again, a saving hand reached out to me<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, Vujo was there\u2014an older man from the village who had been fishing nearby, though I hadn\u2019t noticed him before. Every time we saw each other after that, he would tease me with a grin:<\/p>\n

\u201cRemember how you grabbed my arm back then? I thought you were going to tear it off, you little rascal!\u201d<\/p>\n

So I had to return home\u2014earlier than I\u2019d wanted, but thankfully still alive.<\/p>\n

This time, my parents heard what had happened pretty quickly. Even today, I believe that neither they nor I fully realized how serious the situation had actually been\u2014otherwise, they probably would have punished me harshly.<\/p>\n

Sometimes you get in trouble when you least expect it. And sometimes, you\u2019re spared when you probably deserve a scolding. That\u2019s how my childlike mind made sense of things back then.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Today, I think: no child should ever have to fear being punished<\/strong>\u2014especially not for nearly drowning.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Now that I know how to swim, I don\u2019t particularly enjoy it.<\/p>\n

Whether I tire quickly because I lack physical stamina or because fear still creeps in\u2014I honestly don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

When I think back to those two times the river nearly took me, what I remember most is the taste of water and the feeling of lungs filling with it.<\/p>\n

And yet, I don\u2019t feel any hostility toward the water, or toward the river. I\u2019m not ready to let go of its presence in my life. I love it. And I love spending time along its banks.<\/p>\n

In the end, even though I almost lost my life in the water\u2014it has given it back to me twice and refused to take it.<\/p>\n

Yes, the river is life to me\u2014both literally and metaphorically.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And had it not returned my life to me, Mima and Sofia would never have become my life.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

S-Dad<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The River Is Life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":6777,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1000],"tags":[2170,2169,2182,2174,2178,1474,1475,977,2177,2183,2168,834,2184,921,2172,2179,1476,2185,2171,2180,2167,2181,1473,2173,2186,831,2175,2166,2176],"class_list":["post-6769","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-s-dad","tag-autobiographical-essay","tag-childhood-by-the-river","tag-childhood-memories","tag-childhood-trauma","tag-coming-of-age-story","tag-drina","tag-drovning","tag-family","tag-family-memory","tag-fear-and-resilience","tag-fear-of-water","tag-growing-up","tag-identity","tag-life-en","tag-life-and-identity","tag-life-experiences-and-identity","tag-life-saving-story","tag-literary-nonfiction","tag-memory-and-survival","tag-nature-and-memory","tag-near-drowning-experience","tag-personal-narrative","tag-river","tag-river-symbolism","tag-s-dad","tag-short-story","tag-surviving-drowning","tag-the-river-is-life","tag-water-and-fear"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe River Is Life - 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