It didn’t look like much of a lake. In fact, if I had not looked up and through the trees and my tears, I might have missed it.
To reach its edge of this unknown lake, I had to make a trail.
On the shore of that unknown lake I drowned in my grief.
I sank back down into the hard memories of the past several years.
That morning I needed to be alone, to get away, to sort things through, to not think.
To just walk.
With the collar of my jacket pulled up tight and zipped to my chin, shoulders hunched and head down against the cold, and my eyes only on the next step I had been trudging in anguished pain with labored breath and balled fists.
My heart, soul, and mind were drowning in the cold waves of anger and despair.
I clenched my teeth so hard that my jaw hurt.
A profound revulsion at how it was possible my world could have shattered hammered through my being as the frozen mud on the trail crunched underfoot.
That’s when I found the lake.
Snow was forecasted, but for now the big pond’s far shoreline reflected the frozen, leafless, bare branches of trees and brush.
Like my hard and angry thoughts, the skeletal fingers of that far side appeared hard and angry.
The lake’s black surface reflected my black mood.
Repeatedly using the heel of my boot, I smashed and freed a large rock.
Defiantly I threw it as far as I could into the placid surface.
I wanted that peaceful lake to be as disturbed and troubled and hurt as I was.
Moments later, the ripples caused by the stone’s splash lapped the shore where I stood.
All returned to as it was.
In silence, the water-reflected crystallized brush and trees on the far shore became gloriously resplendent in the rays of the rising sun as it warmed the scene.
Peace and serenity and light filled the little lake with no name.
As they did me.
The views expressed in this article are the writer’s own.
Susanne Bacon says
There is nothing better than a walk all by oneself when one needs to come to term with one’s thoughts. Very obviously, it also inspired you to write …
David Anderson says
Thank you Susanne. Occassional (daily?!) time alone and apart are essential for spiritual, emotional, mental – if not physical – well-being.
Joseph Boyle says
David Anderson,
The reason for your anguish is not included in your writing, and I am being critical for your having made that choice.
Yet, what is readily included is the fact that your words form a beautiful story and a concept for all of us to consider as we trudge through our own individual circumstances of life.
Thank you David for sharing your thoughtful and mentally stimulating words.
Joseph Boyle
DAVID ANDERSON says
Thank you Joe. As I tossed this around I could not bring myself to identify the specifics behind the article. And, upon reflection, I thought it better – and your comments verify my decision – to leave unknown the reason for my personal grief such that readers would substitute their own struggles and, hopefully, come to the same conclusion. Blessings!
Susan Rothwell says
Ripple in still water . .. .. find that song and listen to it.
DAVID ANDERSON says
I will Susan. Thank your for the recommendation. Good to hear from you again. Saw the other day Gertie’s is closing forever. I know you had already moved on but now sadder still an icon no more.
Susan Rothwell says
It’s like another death in the family. Time moves on. Que sera sera.
But it is not pretty.
Thanks for remembering us. We had a good gallop, didn’t we?
David Anderson says
A good gallop indeed. 🙂
Susan Mayfield says
When is Gertie’s closing ?
Susan Rothwell says
Hi,
Gerties is closed now. We had leased it out but it didn’t work out like we hoped and then Covid didn’t help things. It’s like a death in the family for us all over again.
I don’t see any way we can go back now and pick up the pieces for a second time.
She will be missed. We had great years, tho.
Sue