North Lake

To this day I still remember back when I was just 6 years old. I would wake up every Sunday morning and glance out the window to be welcomed with the warmness of the sun and the beautiful melodies of our lovebirds, which we kept in our patio. I remember sprawling out in bed just until my grandfather would knock on my door lightly, then peek into my room and whisper “I have a surprise for you.” Every single time I would hear that coming from him, it would bring joy into my heart, it would make me smile like never before. I’d dodge out of bed swiftly and change into whatever I could find, then run into the kitchen like a madman for my surprise. I knew it’d be a spectacular day every time I’d see my grandfather standing in the kitchen with a loaf of pre-sliced bread in one hand and his car keys in the other. I would always wait for him to say, “lets go see our friends at North Lake,” before I’d dart out of the kitchen and out the door to wait in the car to go to the best place in the world! I remember after a five-minute car ride, seeing a big wooden sign that read “North Lake Park.” North Lake Park was the kind of park that was little in size but had a grand amount of splendor. Getting down from the car you’d immediately step on a large patch of well-manicured grass that seemed too perfect to explain. Every wisp of grass was even greener then the next! Different species of ducks would waddle around with their ducklings and pick at the grass every now and then. There were dozens of ducks! It always seemed to amaze me. Enormous apple blossom trees towered above the valley of grass, lined up side by side, creating a large blanket of green, pink, and white. Under the apple blossom trees there were 3 wooden benches that fit about 2 people each. My grandfather would always sit in the same spot every visit; he loved that spot. I would sit near the edge of the lake with the bagged loaf of bread in my hands and I’d feed every duck and duckling there was until there was no more bread. I loved looking out over the lake and admiring the crystal clear water, tossing the occasional pebble or two. My grandfather and I would do this every Sunday whenever we got the chance.
As I got older, my grandfather ceased to take me to the lake. According to him, I was too grown up to play with ducks and toss pebbles in the lake.
It’s been five years since I’ve been to that lake. My poor grandfather passed away a year ago and I’ve been afraid to go ever since. But yesterday afternoon, I decided I’d stop by that lake if only just for one last time…
I stepped down from my car and walked over to the tarnished fence that now enclosed the lake and looked down. The well-manicured grass that I used to love playing on was now an old patch of dirt and dead grass. I reached and pushed the fence open, walked through and sat on the only bench there was left, my grandfathers favorite bench. I looked over to my left and saw various cans of beer along with a variety of cigarette packs dug into the dirt. I looked over to my right and saw cigarette butts and an ashtray, which I’m sure no one ever really used. I looked up and saw that the beautiful apple blossom trees that used to make my heart soar were now brittle and bare, not one leaf or flower was upon its branches. I looked down at my feet and saw a single bullet. I felt tears stinging my eyes, threatening to fall as I stood up and walked over to the spot on the ground near the water where I used to sit and feed the ducks. I looked over the lake and saw that instead of water, the lake was a dark, muddy substance with beer cans and coca cola cans floating up on the surface. I turned to the side and saw a large sign that read “DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and sighed softly, shaking my head. I turned my back on the lake and headed back to my car. It’s a shame things turned out the way they did with North Lake. That once beautiful lake was the only thing that made my Sundays worthwhile