Hidden Waters, Fishy Heroes, and Protagonists

There's a place not far from my home that is full of trails, trees, and wildlife. A little sign near the entrance and even smaller ones along the dividing fence that surrounds the nature preserve name it Hidden Waters. What a prophetic title. There used to be a beautiful little lake that attracted birds, and reflected the sunshine at the bottom of the sloping terrain of the preserve. About a year ago the lake dried up. Now the lake is hidden somewhere in the memories of people who have seen it, nestled among the many neuron connections of our brains. The only place you can see it now is in an aerial view of the preserve from many years before. 

I hadn't been to the preserve in a while, and I remember the surprise when seeing, or rather not seeing the water there for the first time. The floor of what used to be the lake was all cracked and exposed, like the layers of shedding skin of a reptile. I dragged the toe of my shoe over the dirt in a little circle wondering if anyone had ever walked here, not swimming, before the lake had formed. I imagined myself to be the first person crossing that bit of land in hundreds of years as I made my way to a little picnic table that someone had dragged into what used to be the lake's center. I sat in the sun, on the table's bench seat, and thought about changes. I thought about how the earth keeps turning when it's surface changes so much. Even when entire lakes dry up the earth keeps orbiting the sun, staying on its track as if nothing had ever changed. I thought about the fish and other water life that used to live in the lake. Did they feel the change coming? Did they feel trapped as the surface of the lake gradually receded lower and lower? Could they tell that their time was running out as their natural environment slowly evaporated? I imagine a hero that would come and save the fish just before the water was gone. It would be some zoology or marine biology major with a passion for water life. Our fishy hero would sweep in with nets and aquariums just before the lake finished drying up, and transport our fish to a new home, a new lake that was safe. It's more likely that no one came to save the fish. I imagined their little carcasses scattered around the old lake bottom, and what a feast the carnivorous wildlife of the preserve would have had. Or maybe the fish were already all gone by the time the water finished drying up. Once the water levels receded far enough that they couldn't survive, they would slowly die out. Maybe by the time the water was gone, so where the little fishes.

The nature preserve continued to change over time, and this summer you would hardly know a lake had been there at all. The previously water covered ground is covered with plants now. Long, soft ferns as tall as me fill most of it. You can't cross the lake anymore, except in little areas where people have worn their own trails through the plant life.

This summer I've been reading there sometimes. I like to walk to the preserve and find a nice little spot to sit while I devour my next book. I sit in safety on my favorite little picnic table, or by the base of a sturdy tree and watch the troubled characters in my books. I watch Esther Greenwood as her sanity slowly slips away. I watch Holden Caulfield struggling in his discontent. Vida Winter as she reveals her haunting history. I smile and delight in the happy endings, and wonder at the tragedy in the sad ones. But whatever happens in my stories, I sit there safe... in the sun, in the shade, by the trees, hearing wildlife, in hidden waters. I realize I don't really care what I'm doing in a year, in five years, or ten. When I feel good, and peaceful, and happy, the future doesn't really matter. It's not so much a lack of ambition, as contentment with where I am now. I have dreams and goals for the future. Maybe even too many of them, but it doesn't really matter that I'm not there now because here is wonderful too. I think that's what is really important in life. Being happy with who and where you are. The future is important, but life can be so short, and every moment of it ought to be treasured. Whether we die of old age or not, it is always there. Like the surface of an inevitably receding lake, we can feel it gliding nearer and nearer with time. Maybe bigger fish will take us suddenly, without warning, or maybe we'll perish when the water is all dried up. All that really matters is how we spend the time we have.

All I really need is a song in my heart
Food in my belly and love in my family
All I really need is a song in my heart
And love in my family

            -from All I Really Need by Raffi