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Essay on The Meadow Pond

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A short walk to Meadow Pond: following the stone wall up the dirt road, FOR SALE sign next to an empty house with a clear-cut yard. Struggling to escape the perpetual thoughts that always seem to pull me in – where do we go from here? – a golden smile in the afternoon sunlight – branded to my mind like a red hot iron, trying to dismiss them. Looking up at the road ahead of me, I smile – only thoughts. The cold air hits the skin of my face and I stick my hands in my pockets. Pete, our neighbor, pops out of the bend in the road, walking his old black lab. “No camera today?” he shouts out. “No, just a notebook,” I reply. “Do you have a lot of homework?” he asked concerned. “It’s good work.”

Turning the bend, Meadow Pond can be seen through the trees and the viewable side by the road is brilliantly illuminated by the soft gray light of the day – a refrain from the thoughts that had riddled my head. Remembering the year my parents bought two kayaks – pushing off into the blanket of water lilies, an incredible feeling of euphoria when I was lucky enough to see a blue heron take off into the sky, and sounds of animals bigger than me. Suddenly the black power lines cut the scene into two parts, black lines reflected in the mirror-like pond water, providing electricity, spoiling my view. Looking up to see the cold, black metal cellphone tower piercing through the top of Mt. Kearsarge: trying to remember, without luck, the days when I only saw the Mountain. The mountain my dad had carried me up on his broad shoulders, wanting me to see the top one more time before they would install the cutting-edge technology on the peak. That god damn tower my dad fought so hard to prevent.

Turning away: bush-whack down the slope to the bank of th...


... middle of paper ...


...t to prevent a new house being erected on the spot.

My attention returns to the mirror-like pond, casting perfect reflections on its surface – casting reels with my brothers, the bright sun shining through the pine trees, walking up and down the dirt road with plastic bags, picking up trash, beer cans, lots of beer cans, and Lane guiding us along the pond’s edge in the dead of winter, trudging through snow, looking up to him.

Struck with a strong desire to give back. Meadow Pond had fostered in me a love for the outdoors, and an awareness of how humans can impacted it. The sacredness of this place becomes more clear to me, a place of meditation and reflection, a place to relieve my mind of the thoughts that consume me. Struck with a desire to know more so more can be given back.

Trudging back down dirt path
in the light of the moon –
love brings me back


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