A Day at Barton Pond (Remembering and Forgetting)
It was early June. In the place where my ducklings and I had first met, I sat. The sweet chrysanthemums were gone, A bunch of forget-me-not have grown, instead. Are they there to remind me of my love? Then, it's beside the point - Falling in love at first sight happens so rare, and you don't forget. At the other end of the path, next to the dam, Two young men suddenly showed up, on the wooden deck. They quickly took off their jackets, threw themselves into the still-cold pond. Striking arms vigorously, they swam to another side of the lake, then swam back, got out, dressed, and left. The lake returned to its calm, as if nothing, ever, had happened. And there was no one else - my camera was the only witness. I stared at the water long after they'd gone. I seemed to hear them say ''Let's do it,'' and They came, they did it! I could see them, one day, after they retire, maybe fishing in the Keys or watching sunset on Pacific, talk about this moment at Barton Pond, though they will forget the names of the women they've been with.
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P.S. Barton Pond is a small lake. It, of course, is nothing like swimming across Atlantic Ocean. Still, there was something about it that felt like a wonder, just seeing it happen so sudden, so fast, traceless, as if a feather, blown into your view by winds, gone in a blink. But if I hadn't lingered, or suppose I had been there a minute late, I would never have had this experience. Guess, it takes time to pause to discover things, though, sometimes, it also takes chance. P.P.S. Swimming is not allowed on Barton Pond.