It's around 5:30 on Thursday. I don't usually come to the pond this late in the day. Pete and his fellow ducks are nowhere to be found. I see one or two splashes of orange, but the fish don't appear to be traveling in schools right now. I've never thought of a fish like that, alone, lonely, unless he was on the end of my pole. A bird flies into the low branches of the tree. It sits there for two moments, looks around, then flies to somewhere more interesting. Imagine if that is how we gaged our lives, our time, searching for interesting places and people. I think of how I'm always so bored and unsatisfied, yet there is loads to be grateful for, tons of blessings sprinkled on me every day. With sympathy for my yearnings, I see that the bench at the pond has been moved to the left and sits at a new angle. Although the pond is not swarming with animals today, plenty of students are around. Two girls walk past; they make sure to stay on the stones rather than the grass. This reminds me of my child-like tendency to never step on the cracks in a sidewalk. Not never, but when I'm thinking about it. I avoid them as though they could open up and swallow me whole.
I wish a bird would land on my knee and lend me some of its magic. They seem less powerful, small next to my large body. When I wear heels, my best friend and my boyfriend tell me I'm too tall. I'm at eye level and perhaps that scares them. That is the gift that I want, though, to look everyone in the eye. If I could look a bird in the eye what would she tell me? Many of you become birds when you're done. A fish? I can feel every hook, every skillet, every tooth. And swimming alone is hard on my gulls. A duck? I'm a wooden figurine on your shelf and a floating figure in your painting. Leave this body alone.
It's interesting how time of day changes a place, isn't it?
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