Reflections

This must be the most magical spot in the world.

I snuck down here tonight to snap a memory of my beautiful family. I want to laugh at Samantha and Doug holding their little sticks like professional anglers, while Eric struggles to put a worm on his 300 dollar pole. But I dare not disturb the serenity of this moment. They are so silent for a change, I can see the neon crackle of the sun as it melts into the mirror of the lake. The gentle sound of water lapping against the pilings draws my attention to the empty fish net lying on weathered boards. Even though they stole my yoga spot, at least I won’t be cleaning fishing tonight.

My mother’s ghostly whisper tickles my ear. “Your kids are an honor unto you, Martha. Children are the truest reflection of a parent’s character. For good or ill.” Her laughter vibrates inside me, leaving echoes of lavender swirling around my head.

She’s right. I am truly blessed.

My heart balloons with pride. I clap a hand to my chest to hold all that gratitude and beauty inside, for myself, lest the blinding light ruin the peace of this moment.

I want to stand here forever, at the end of the world. I want to dive into the horizon, to float inside time, where air embraces earth, holding a spot for fire to take a swim in the sweet, pure water. I know it’s here, in the infinitesimal space where the four elements meet, that Spirit is born.

Definitely the most magical place in my universe.

Samantha claps her hat to her head and drops her pole. She turns up that cute freckled face and yells for her brother. Doug leans over, casually sets his pole on the dock, and they walk together toward the pier. I crouch down, arms open for a hug, but they stop, turn their backs to the hill and face the sun. Their auras glow against the darkening sky, arms and legs flowing in graceful imitation of the waves. They raise their tiny hands to the heavens in unison and bow forward at the waist. The sun salute!

Thus honored, the sun takes his leave, along with the warmth of the day. Sam giggles and runs by me, her brother following at the sedate pace of a pre-teen. I stand to go home as the breeze turns chilly. A freezing tingle captures my nose and fingers, yet my heart erupts in a burst of love, as Eric tromps up the pier, shaking the boards with his gait. I reach out for the warmth of my husband’s hand as he strides right by me. Somewhere in the space between the wind erasing my skin and the fire dissolving my bones, I realize: I am the reflection.



WC: 486



Written for Leger's 15 for 15 contest in 2009. I memorized each line in my head so I could type it in fifteen minutes. Never again!