A nice cloudy day. Perfect for contemplation.
This used to be a noisy place. Kids with fishing poles, kids in swimming suits—for a while there were a couple of boys who built a little raft to float on this pond. They must have been reading about Tom Sawyer. The raft stayed here until the boys were grown and gone, and finally somebody hauled away the rotting wood, displacing turtles who liked to sun themselves on it.
Sunny days will still find kids coming around netting the wildlife below this placid surface, and newcomers to the neighborhood will even try swimming in the pond.
But things change, don’t they? Where once this was a good place to fish for bass, catfish soon replaced bass. Tadpole shrimp were rumored to inhabit these waters, though that was never confirmed by anyone with authority on pond life.
When humans of any age show up, at least twenty turtles drop from the rocks alongside and hide in the murky depths, which tells you the water has become stagnant. As for swimming, a visitor from up north who was not always right but never in doubt, declared she spotted nutria in the water, putting an end to swimming.
As I said before, things change, that’s life for you. What was once a delight, we move past. Seasons and all. Relationships that seemed pivotal and enduring fall apart. There’s always something to be learned in a relationship, or in the relationship ending. Perhaps they depended too much on each other. Or humans, being human, may lack commitment or lose interest.
It takes wisdom to recognize when a season has taken its course and it’s time to move on.
Offspring, for instance. You bring them into the world, they depend on you for their very sustenance, and they grow older and move away.
Which reminds me of this old fellow who brought his grandson down here for the boy’s first experience in fishing. He caught a nice little bass, too. But it was the last time he ever went fishing. He became more the electronic device kind of guy.
Not all progress is improvement, but maybe that’s just me.
Humans can be so slow in recognizing what’s actually going on in a situation. Like this old woman who sat here and grumbled and complained about her life. She almost fell the other day, she tells us. But she did not fall. She’s grumbling because she’s so wobbly she almost fell.
She told us, in great boring detail about being detained at a store by a woman who clearly had mental or emotional limitations.
Time marches on. Calendar pages keep flipping. We’re thinking, if this old lady doesn’t recognize God’s intervention in her life she’s destined to repeat the same tests until she gets it. She should be happy God doesn’t give up on her.
She left here grumbling about almost falling and about the sweet and simple lady who slowed her down on a busy shopping day.
“Angels. That’s what they were, angels!” We tried to tell her. But of course she couldn’t hear us. Egrets can’t speak human.
READY WRITERS FINALE January 19, 2018