Do you ever put off doing something beautiful because you’re too busy? Until last week, I had been saying “tomorrow” for at least two years every time I drove by the gorgeous lagoon that’s a whopping 1.5 miles from our house. Ridiculous, I know.
That day after my last online call, I looked up at the cloudless sky, felt the soft breeze, and the sun on my shoulders and heard the words, “Today. This IS the day!”
So on my way to drop off a ballot at the Post Office and pick up eggs at the neighborhood micro market, I pulled into the parking lot that had been calling my name. An elderly man carrying the two parts of a fishing pole and a bucket in each hand walked toward me emanating peace.
The lake I was about to walk around wasn’t just any lake. It was the one my great aunt and skinny-legged, long braids “me” headed to in her giant boat of a blue Chevy Biscayne.
There were no seat belts or car seats in those days and even though I was tall for my age, I mostly saw the top of everything as we drove across town to our destination. I’m sure I was clutching the Wonder Bread wrapper so tightly my palm was sweating. It would have been a pleasant day, the windows down, the radio on.
We were on the way to feed the ducks. My great aunt, our family’s lone Democrat, was the one who took me on adventures. I’m pretty sure she had as much, if not more, fun than I did.
As I walked the paved trail, part of the city’s major renovation of the park and lagoon, I wasn’t sure she would recognize the place. But I was sure that 45 years after her death, she would approve.
The day was a stunner. The trees were between 20 and 85 degrees of color change. Of course, back then there were no abandoned electric scooters strewn along the path. In those days, we relied on push power.
In a neighborhood prone to the whir of sirens, it was oddly quiet. Silent enough to hear the frogs and the crows croaking. The tall grasses rustling in the breeze. I stood at the rail remembering. There were no ducks to throw pieces of bread to now.
I watched a 20-something fisherman cast his line into the water with a thump. Another twenty-something man passed by smiling; his friendly pup pulling on the leash to greet me.
As I walked, I felt an urge to return every season. To see the landscape change, to notice the movement in me.
The picnic tables and grills surrounding the new shelter were empty. The water was rippled gently to the west. I came to the abandoned boat ramp I didn’t remember, rubbed my shoe over the grass growing between its stones. The boats, like my great aunt and the ducks, were long gone.
I leaned against the railing breathing and snapping photos into and away from the sun. I felt my great aunt there with me. Just like she is when I take my “grands” on neighborhood adventures. Forty-five minutes had passed by the time I headed off. Yes, I had walked around the lagoon. But it felt as if I had traveled much farther.
Is there “something so beautiful” you’ve been waiting for the “perfect” time to enjoy? My great aunt and I would suggest, “Today! This IS the day!” Enjoy ~