alma

I've been told my great-grandmother came to this very pond every morning as well, years and years ago.

I've been told she'd sit on a bench on the opposite bank, built especially for her purpose.

I've been told she'd do nothing but sit and watch the water, and probably the blue herons and geese and leaves falling, too.


I imagine this pond as her refuge, a medium of transport from her husband and her children and the sound of automobiles.

I imagine her daily resolution to walk each morning through trees and unruly branches and across streams and brooks, leaving her house and nagging worries behind.

I imagine her sitting across the still waters, looking through time and seeing me sitting on the opposite bank in pine needles with pen and paper and camera, imagining her.


The bench is now gone, probably by the hands of nature and men and forgotten memories, but I imagine it as if it stood yesterday.

Yes, I know Alma believed in change and worthiness and greatness for her daughters.