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The Pond

As I stand outside the barbwire fence that surrounds the pond. I notice how it seems smaller in the bright sunlight. I gaze across the murky water and the dry lifeless banks and wonder how at night it could be so different. Dad said at night the pond was magical, I didn't believe him of course, but standing here now looking at the metal canoe pulled up on to the dead grass, I realized what he meant.

We had been here the night before. The stars were shinning and the air was cold and damp. I tightened up my jacket to keep out the chill. I could feel the mud squishing under my feet as I stepped into the canoe. We floated along the water and the pond came to life with the sounds of frogs and crickets. The darkness hid the view of the banks from my eyes, which made the water seem to never end. I could taste the mist in the air every time I took a breath and smell the smoke from our chimney down the hill and pretended it was a camp fire.

I wanted to run my hand along the water, but was afraid of what might be lurking underneath. My imagination took over and I pictured water creatures from monster movies leaping out at me. I tried to keep my focus on the bright stars instead, but would catch myself looking down to make sure something wasn't about to grab me. The wind began to pick up and caused the water to ripple; this only made it harder for me to focus on the night sky. My imagination had more to work with, and I couldn't be sure if it was the wind causing the movement, but even the fear that caused my heart to race, couldn't take away the ponds wonder.

As a young girl, magical meant, Mermaids, Fairies and Genies who granted wishes, but I learned about a different kind of magic from the pond, the kind of magic that exists in Mother Nature. In the sunlight the pond looks like nothing more than a over sized mud puddle surrounded by dead grass and weeds. It's almost hard to believe it is the same pond I was on last night.

I picked up a pebble and tossed it in the water; I had to laugh at myself when the water rippled. How could that have frightened me. As I walk down the hill towards the house, I know I will never forget that little pond and its magical nights. I will always remember the way I felt when the frogs came out, the crickets started chirping and the moon danced on the water.

Learn more about this author, Kimberly Adley.
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