After school today, I drove home and then down to the small park by the river. I walked down the path, sat on the dock, tuned out the day, and tuned in to the world around me. At the end of the dock, an old rowboat drifted back and forth with the movement of the water, a jumble of water-logged sticks current-caught against its side. Far off a dog bayed. A mournful sound. Lonely. Periodically car tires hummed over the metal bridge downstream. Cormorants perched on white buoys in the middle of the bay, their wings spread to dry in the golden afternoon sun. That same sunlight warmed my arms and the top of my head.
Warbling, trilling, and the occasional caw-caw-caw of crows crowded the air. Swallows skimmed over the water, their pointed wings dipping infinitesmally close to the surface, before they soared upward, then down again. An aerial dance. As I watched them, the wind blew, painting changing textures on the water’s surface. Pockets of velvety smooth alternated with ruched ripples and swirling eddies. With each gust, the lines on the flag pole tink-tink-tinked and the leaves tossed and turned in a soft, busy rustle. Their shadows flickered across the grass. High overhead a white-washed half moon shone in the brilliant blue spring sky, looking oddly out of place.
I sat still and tuned into the world around me.
Three more days of school. I can make it.