An afternoon with my younger son, a gift.
He had to show me this place.
Memories of his older brother.
Now gone from this earthly home for 4 years
Water gently tickling the dirty sand.
Bird songs cheerily warbled aloft.
No words spoken, only a community of nature.
Ghosts of other times remained evident, palpable.
Distant young voices, laughing, debating. Cursing, at times crying.
They used to come to this place for refuge, for connection, for reflection.
Solitary visits or parties with friends.
Cigarettes, beer, weed.
Maybe quiet times with a new girl.
Water of life, reaffirmed.
They collected, communed, connected.
Youth, vitality, intensity, frivolity.
Pushed into the lake; guffaws.
Campfires. Confessions, Covenants, Commitments.
They belonged, validated.
No parents, no hassles.
(Unless the police showed up.)
My boys used to come here with their buddies.
Shared stories of hope, loss, ambition, anticipation
What might have been. What would become.
Now bygone days, receding like the sun abdicating the daylight
Lost to time, responsibility, work, death.
Another life. Memories linger.
Photo Courtesy of author