I went to Myers Park today to have my morning coffee, listen to the news on the radio and write a bit - working on that story that I wish I was writing. Writing sucks. I was getting nowhere. Frustrated and starting to panic, I questioned myself: exactly who do I think I'm fooling? Writers write. Books, pages, paragraphs, hell, they at least write sentences. I didn't even have words. I'm not a writer, I'm delusional. And then...
I watched a deer walk straight off the point and out into the water. I shuddered. It must be so cold, I thought.
At first, the water was shallow and she walked out easily but then it got deeper and she started to swim. I'd never seen anything like that. Do deer even swim? How does she know how to do that, I thought.
She made her way out to what must have been a sand bar and rose up, standing above the water, surrounded by the waves. Good, I thought. That's a good place to stop. Now she'll turn around and go back to shore.
She only hesitated for a second and then plunged back in, slowly, steadily heading out against the waves toward the far side of the lake. It's deep out there now, I thought. Why is she going that way? Where does she think she's going? Does she even know?
I watched her head bobbing above the waves. Turn around, I thought. You're out too far. You can't make it across. I looked away. I couldn't watch. I can't save you. Please don't make me see you drown.
But I couldn't help it, I had to look back to the water. I searched the waves for her, every swell a glimmer of false hope until there, there she was. I found her. I could barely make her out but she was still going. Please make it, I thought.
And then she was gone, lost in the waves, beyond my vision now, just as she had always been beyond my reach and, honestly, beyond my comprehension. Why? Stop. Please. Wait. Go. Go. You can make it.
I don't know if she made it. I don't know why she tried. All I know is that today, at Myers Park, I watched a deer walk straight off the point and into the water and try to swim to the other side.
I watched a deer walk straight off the point and out into the water. I shuddered. It must be so cold, I thought.
At first, the water was shallow and she walked out easily but then it got deeper and she started to swim. I'd never seen anything like that. Do deer even swim? How does she know how to do that, I thought.
She made her way out to what must have been a sand bar and rose up, standing above the water, surrounded by the waves. Good, I thought. That's a good place to stop. Now she'll turn around and go back to shore.
She only hesitated for a second and then plunged back in, slowly, steadily heading out against the waves toward the far side of the lake. It's deep out there now, I thought. Why is she going that way? Where does she think she's going? Does she even know?
I watched her head bobbing above the waves. Turn around, I thought. You're out too far. You can't make it across. I looked away. I couldn't watch. I can't save you. Please don't make me see you drown.
But I couldn't help it, I had to look back to the water. I searched the waves for her, every swell a glimmer of false hope until there, there she was. I found her. I could barely make her out but she was still going. Please make it, I thought.
And then she was gone, lost in the waves, beyond my vision now, just as she had always been beyond my reach and, honestly, beyond my comprehension. Why? Stop. Please. Wait. Go. Go. You can make it.
I don't know if she made it. I don't know why she tried. All I know is that today, at Myers Park, I watched a deer walk straight off the point and into the water and try to swim to the other side.
