PARTS AND PIECES
Our Lake
There was a small lake in our backyard. One we would swim in during the summer months. I remember my mom floating and falling asleep under the warm blanket of the sun once. I’m not sure what woke her, but that night she was red.
Now that I’ve introduced you to our lake, off to the memory that started this thought. I had one of those disposable cameras, and I was an explorer. I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. It was a winter with not much snow, or maybe it hadn’t snowed much yet. Either way, I remember it was winter because the lake had a thin layer of see through ice around its shoreline. About halfway to the other side there was an opened beer can sunk into the dirt and covered by ice. It was so still and peaceful. All I could do was stare at it. I took a picture, and continued on around the lake. I’m not sure how many more pictures I took, or what they were of, but I clearly remember this one. I’ve seen it pop up here and there over the years (it is an actual physical picture). Maybe that’s what’s kept this memory alive for so long…or
I was alone, it was alone. We shared a quiet moment. Peace in a tumultuous world. It was just a feeling I treasured…or
It pissed me off that someone had thrown a beer can in the lake. So I took a picture to document the littering.
Lol! I came across this picture after I wrote this post, and had to include it ;). Yes, littering does suck.
DoRee MelNic 