I sit amid the chaos of my apartment waiting for the allotted time to pass; enough that I have achieved something of the clean up I have assigned myself do so I can escape into the sun and run away to Walden. Moving is never easy, and after seven years of children growing and leaving; being witness to a life lived and left, it is time to fold away the memories which shine up at me in color print into shoe boxes… and move on. But not without lifting them, sometimes one by one, sometimes in clumps as they have grown together with age and ill keeping, to relive those days once again.
This was how I came upon photos of Walden dating back to the early 2000’s, to photos of my younger swimming self, and to my children; then toddlers and a grade schooler; now one almost finished and one about to start college and one, lost to life through cancer.
Like myself and my children, Walden has changed her face in those ten plus years. She has been striped bare, her mess of tangled limbs and vines which then fell out of the woods and tumbled into the water now combed back and neatly trimmed by sand and rocks; leaving the water pooled, a bowl of tears.
As I reflect, I learn about change. That just as the earth opens up to the buds and blossoms of Spring and I grow older and slower in my journeys across the pond, so Walden displays her aging and the cycles of the earth; the comings and goings which are natural in all living things.