Deep Calls to Deep.

#1 of An Ancient Series.

It was a sunny spring day in the Czech Republic. The year was 1994. Two communist red sweatshirts were belted up in the back as the kids and I departed from our Zbraslav home. Prague 6 was our destination. We lived twenty five minutes south of the city centre.

My river view was unobstructed as I drove. Weak hot chocolate colored waters flowed flood-level-fast out the passenger side window. As I looked down the bank, frowns on the arched stone bridges proved that they were nervous as large limbs raced under them. Upriver debris threatened their spanned structural home. Our beautiful Vltava was dangerously wide that morning. An overnight deluge in northern Bohemia had made it so.