To Jeremy

Jeremy was quite young when he got lost. A sudden flood of unprecedented proportions had forced him and his close ones to flee in a torrent of panic, rushing to higher grounds. Though he came from a lineage of renowned swimmers the sheer strength of the gushing jets of black water would have broken him against a ridge before he even ran out of air. So up he ran and climbed and leaped, not looking behind for there was nothing to see no more. The thunderous tumult faded in the background as his steps grew heavier and he emerged to the last golden rays of a dying sun. The rumbling of tires and shoes and voices submerged him. He had made it far but he had made it alone.
It seemed that the rest of the world was ignorant of his tragedy and kept rattling and honking with the usual restlessness.
Not the least surprising was our encounter nor noteworthy were the circumstances. The years had passed and memories eroded. By that time he had grown to be a sturdy male and I’d never seen a rat so friendly. He would scamper along my ventures from somewhere to nowhere and even on the way back. Yet in company, I’ve never seen him and solemn was his pace. For what he lost he never found and broken whistles do not sound.