By the lake

All of a sudden a memory flows into my mind as I walk toward a mailbox near my home.  It is the same mailbox that I tossed many a letter for my mother years ago as a child.

And I, being asked to run across the street for mom seemed like just a small task but now a real time memory that flows through my mind and soul as I sat with mom in the recreation room of our home, sometimes playing the piano for her if she asked.

The same path, the same person?

No,  I am not the same person but I am still in the same steps as I was, running across the street and  quietly dropping the letter into the box. But today I slowed down a bit to catch the edge of the lake, as I could see a small portion of the blue and brown waves cresting toward me on this windy but sunny afternoon.

And then another memory glows, a flow, but with a sound this time as the waves reach the top of the cement wall at the tunnel to the lake.  And a few girls, dressed as I used to with some worn out jeans and colorful tee shirt of orange, browns and yellows; perhaps hiding a bit from me as I got closer but then they realized they knew me from all the walks I take near the lake.

The realization that I have come to  is that I always seem to come back here for the silence that I need.

Alone, but not alone in my mind when I think about all the times that those walks on the beach truly helped me with my spirit; glowing strongly throughout my life, especially when I was sad. I would sit by the not so nice lake, surrounded by scraps of  rusty, red metal deteriorating,  and broken pieces of beer bottles. I was there for hours as I am now, tapping my feet against the cement wall near my home in time to each wave. This wave moment would settle me down to a slow enough pace to find myself and deal with the problem that I had been struggling with.