The Pond

The sky is a textured watercolor of blues, rosy purples, and dusty grays. I have my bath towel spread out over the grass and I lay on my stomach looking out over the pond. For some reason I like being out here at night. I can still see my apartment complex across the water. I can hear the faint whirls of the cars driving on the street behind me. But this patch of grass in the middle belongs to me.

The tall grass rocks back and forth in the breeze and some bats flutter across the sky. The frogs share their song with me. Most of the time I am giving and receiving information - constantly communicating and interacting. But in instances like these I can simply receive. I don't have to give anything back to enjoy this moment. All I have to do is just take it in.

I roll over on my back to face the sky. I place my right hand underneath my head and use my other hand to stroke some blades of grass. I can see four sparkling stars through the cotton sheet of clouds.

Sweet, self-indulgent solitude.

After a few moments I gather up my towel and make my way home in the dark. As I walk around the pond I pass a bush with a small green light on one of its leaves. I take a closer look. A tiny lightning bug grasps the edge of the leaf and flickers. He lights my way home.