The River That Set Me Free

The River That Set Me Free

School was a place where I felt invisible at best and ridiculed at worst. I never seemed to fit in, and the teasing left me carrying a weight I didn’t know how to set down. Every day felt like walking into a room where I was already wrong, already less than, already nobody.

But the Machel River gave me something school never could. The moment I stepped onto its banks, the heaviness lifted. The air smelled of moss and cedar, and the current rushed loud enough to drown out the voices that haunted me. With my family nearby, I felt free to laugh, to run, to be a child without fear.

At the river, I belonged. The water didn’t judge me, and the trees didn’t ask me to be different. It was a place where joy bubbled up naturally, where I could forget the sting of the classroom and remember that I was more than what others said about me.

The river couldn’t erase my struggles, but it gave me a glimpse of freedom, a memory of joy I could carry back with me. Even now, years later, I hold onto those moments as proof that light can break through, even in the hardest seasons.

We all need a river, a place that reminds us who we really are.