Ripples in the Water

It is a beautiful summer day—birds are chirping, crickets are jumping, hot bugs are buzzing. Dragonflies glide over the mirror surface of Duncan Lake. Across the vast expanse of sky-like water, children splash playfully at the beach as their parents relax on the hot sands. Sun umbrellas, like flowers, poke out from the golden grains, littered with towels. A volleyball floats back and forth between sun-kissed friends.

Ahead of me is a red house, cute and quaint, with a wrap-around porch. It once was a part of a motel; you can still see the neon “vacancy” sign in the window sill. The house is surrounded by a small flower garden with petunias, impatiens, and black-eyed susans. The matching shed, like a baby, sits close by and watches its mother. Bumble bees buzz around the bright yellow susans while butterflies flutter among lilac bushes. A young girl of ten years skips down the porch steps. She wears a one-piece bathing suit with polka dots and skips down the sandy hill to the beach. Behind her, a more timid and cautious girl follows.

                Grandparents and father emerge from the door, laughing and joking as they make their way to the beach porch where then they lounge down in their chairs with glasses of ice-cold lemonade. The young girls splash in the water, making mini tidal waves with the waves of their hands. They spin, they twirl, and they dance in the water, laughing and giggling. The girls, so sweet with their cherubic little faces, float luxuriously in the shining water with their tiny toes skimming the lake bottom. They play “Simon Says” then “Red Light,” and then play pretend. The more adventurous girl with the polka dot bathing suit pulls the other though the water as though she were train and the other a train car. The adults smile at their silly antics and sound effects then continue on with their conversation.

But then, it gets quiet. Too quiet. Whimpers replace the sounds of laughing. The adults look anxiously around. Where is the girl with the polka dot suit? The mirror surface starts to break. Water shifts, splashes, churns, and bubbles. Frantic arms are thrashing about beneath the now-crying and screaming girl.  

The world is a growing dark and blurry for the girl with the polka dot bathing suit. She struggles to swim away, but she is held back. Something is pushing down on her. Her weak hits and kicks are nullified by the thickness of the water. Balls of light flow from her nose and lips into a tunnel of light above her. It gets darker, darker, and darker until at last she becomes a victim of the shadows.  

                But then, light shines into the girl’s fluttering eyes. She’s pulled close into the strong arms, choking and sputtering, and holds on as if her life depended on it. She peers over the shoulders of her father and see her grandparents look over her, their folds of their skin sagging in a frown. Relief comes over their aged faced and foggy eyes.  Tears fall from her eyes and she barriers her face in her father’s chest. She feels the comforting touch of father’s hand patting her on the back. After a long time, he lets go of her and takes the trembling child’s hand, and begins limping up the sandy hill to the red house.

Ripples in the Water (c) Maranda L. Scott 2012.

Photo copyrighted to its respectful owner.