Day 029: Fish Creek Pond
Even in the dead of the evening, in the middle of nowhere, your senses can be assaulted. It’s all around you. It’s a part of you and you are a part of it.
You can see the sun set over Fish Creek Pond. A harsh orange forms a halo around the gentle orange of the trees. For a moment, you think that you can see everything in sepia. It harkens to a time long gone. There’s a guy fly-fishing, although there are no fish in the pond, despite what the name insinuates. A boat careens slowly across the horizon. On the other side of the pond, you can see neon hula-hoops spinning to and fro. Most likely the act of some microdosed kids. Kids not unlike you, once upon a time.
You can hear it. At first, you think it’s a Coyote, then you realize it’s just a Loon. A dog nearby barks hoarsely and her owner chides her endlessly. The high-pitch din of a radio, somewhere else. The crackling of the Enviro-Log burning recycled waxed cardboard for some reason. The voices of your friends behind you. Butt jokes have turned into baby advice, but with a bit of luck, it will return to butt jokes.
You can smell it, too. The rich yet surprisingly un-chemically scent from the Enviro-Log smoke. The pine needles that have fallen to their death long ago. The dinner cooking on the stove. Hamburger Helper, corned beef hash, Brussels Sprouts, a waterlogged ham steak and beer for good measure. You might be a responsible adult, but you’ve still got some child left in you.
You can feel it. The cold wind coming in, chilling your bones to the core. The temperature slightly dropping. The loud heartbeat in your chest. The sense that time is slipping. That nothing’s going to be the same. That you need to enjoy this moment while it’s still there, instead of silently staring out into a pond.
But most importantly, you can feel the love. It’s all around you. It’s a part of you and you’re a part of it. There’s a lot of things you can pull out of nothing, as long as you pay attention.