Time and again

Hothole Pond, as far as names go, sounds like the name of a pit from hell. I know better, having gone swimming there sometime last year with my sister-in-law. As I sat at my desk, trying to finish up an email, but really thinking about that random swim we took at Hothole, I glanced out the window. It was a perfect day outside- blue sky, green leaves on the trees, everything in technicolor. Sighing I turned back to my computer. My thoughts were not on the task at hand. I glanced out the window again, remembering.

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Maura said she'd be going swimming before work and I was welcome to join her. Ha, up at 5:30 to go swimming in a pond with a name like Hothole Pond, I thought as I went to bed that night. No thanks. All that muck, weed, and dark, dirty looking water creeped me out just thinking about it. However, the next morning found me awake anyway, so I got up and ready to leave for Hothole Pond. Incidentally, Hothole Pond is not a pit from hell. Instead it is a smaller pond, trees crowding up to the edges around most of its perimeter, dotted with a few homes. The sun was barely shining over the eastern trees, a thin mist hung above the top of the pond. Pulling into the parking lot I was impressed by the ponds simple beauty.

We got out of the car. I stretched and Maura changed into her swim gear. We headed across the road to the boat ramp access.  Adjusting her swim cap one more time, Maura pulled on her goggles and walked down the ramp then slowly waded out into the pond. When she got deep enough, she expertly cut through the water and began swimming her way around the pond. I couldn't stop myself from continually looking up from the book I'd brought to see if I could spot the dot of Maura's head, checking her progress around the pond. Or looking up to see the mist was higher, turning bronze colored as it met the light now breaking through the trees. Or to notice the sky was turning a darker blue with more orange, tinged with gold, guessing the sun would soon crest the treeline. And I heard silence. Hardly a car passed on the road behind me, and only birds sang around me. How quiet everything was, the stillness before people begin to populate the world with all their sounds and actions.

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Back in my office, I looked away from the window to refocus on the email. I tried feeling the same stillness of that long ago morning, only here in my office. I closed my eyes and imagined the warmth of the sun on my face, the cool water, and the early morning quiet. Opening my eyes, I shook my head and took my hands off the keyboard. This email was not happening, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The office was cramped, filled with books and chairs moved in to clear off the rug for cleaning, and my to-do list beyond finishing the email was considerable. Taking one last look around, a new thought formed, one I couldn’t ignore. One that got me immediately focused as I snapped down the lid of my computer and hastily gathered my stuff to leave.

Half an hour later I was standing at the end of my neighbors dock, looking out over a pond, not Hothole Pond, but near close in beauty. The sky was blue, the leaves on the trees green, everything still technicolor. Sun warmed my face and glinted off the surface of the pond. There was a stillness, different than the quiet of early morning, but none the less stillness. Taking a deep breath, I jumped off the dock into the water. For a moment I stayed under, feeling the cool of the water surround me before propelling myself to the surface. I tread water and looked around. A smile came to my lips and I started swimming across the pond.