My friends Susan, Susanna, and I went hiking to a place I named Swan Lake. It was a hiking trail near my friend Susanna's house and the weather was actually nice: 46 degrees and warm outside, only a slight chilly breeze. When we got to the lake, we looked out over the water and the swans floating there. About half of them were white, the other half black. There was also a bird of prey gliding around above them, a black hawk, I believe.
"Don't underestimate a swan," my friend Susan said.
"Are they dangerous?" I asked quietly, eyes wide.
She only nodded, her eyes wide, too.
"Don't ever underestimate a swan," she repeated.
A moment later, "I like the diamonds on the water," Susanna commented. I looked towards where she was staring. There were diamonds of light dancing on the water, serene and peaceful. I got that nature feeling once again, the feeling that this was where I belonged, not sitting behind a desk doing paperwork in order to make a living. I could live in that shack there, I thought, my eyes resting on a small, run-down shack on a natural land bridge over the water. Then I could chop firewood when it got cold, gather food every day...and just watch the water in my free time. A part of me liked that. A part of me wanted that harsh, bare, spartan lifestyle where I would always be hungry, usually be cold, but forever be free. Maybe some day, I repeated to myself again. Maybe some day.
We headed back soon and I said good-bye to my friends before I went home. I spent the hour-long drive back listening to soft romantic piano music and musing. Then, when I was listening to Moon River by Henry Mancini, I couldn't help but notice how well it fit in with peaceful, warm, early spring days--gems in the normally harsh and extreme temperatures of the Northeast United States.
Even now, I still go back there sometimes, go back to that day on Swan Lake, watching the swans and the diamonds dancing on the water, wondering what life would be like if all that I had to do everyday was just survive.
"Don't underestimate a swan," my friend Susan said.
"Are they dangerous?" I asked quietly, eyes wide.
She only nodded, her eyes wide, too.
"Don't ever underestimate a swan," she repeated.
A moment later, "I like the diamonds on the water," Susanna commented. I looked towards where she was staring. There were diamonds of light dancing on the water, serene and peaceful. I got that nature feeling once again, the feeling that this was where I belonged, not sitting behind a desk doing paperwork in order to make a living. I could live in that shack there, I thought, my eyes resting on a small, run-down shack on a natural land bridge over the water. Then I could chop firewood when it got cold, gather food every day...and just watch the water in my free time. A part of me liked that. A part of me wanted that harsh, bare, spartan lifestyle where I would always be hungry, usually be cold, but forever be free. Maybe some day, I repeated to myself again. Maybe some day.
We headed back soon and I said good-bye to my friends before I went home. I spent the hour-long drive back listening to soft romantic piano music and musing. Then, when I was listening to Moon River by Henry Mancini, I couldn't help but notice how well it fit in with peaceful, warm, early spring days--gems in the normally harsh and extreme temperatures of the Northeast United States.
Even now, I still go back there sometimes, go back to that day on Swan Lake, watching the swans and the diamonds dancing on the water, wondering what life would be like if all that I had to do everyday was just survive.
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