Lagoon Walk: Cicada Memories
But you hardly ever go for walks!
I haven’t set foot by the lagoon since eldest daughter’s wedding at the gazebo there.
Back in early June.
I marinate briefly in regret and self-chastisement.
Then head out.
No Fit Bit.
Those are against my religion.
No pedometer either.
I don’t care how many steps I take.
There is no birdsong.
Unless you count the panicked quacks of the three ducks I startled.
There are cicadas.
Although these cicadas aren’t as loud,
They remind me instantly of August evenings on my grandparents’ back porch in Dwight, IL.
30 years ago and more now.
I pause for a few minutes under the tree canopy and remember.
Moving on to the more public part of the park.
A teenage neighbor boy is sitting on a park bench and reading.
A dead pulp book.
Not a screen.
He doesn’t see me.
I don’t dare interrupt him and send a silent salute instead.
Speaking of books, I bear right to head to the library where two holds are waiting for me.
The gazebo catches my eye.
There is a wedding there.
I remember again.
Library books in hand I start walking home.
Cicadas much louder now.
Almost Dwight level loudness.
I find a Ted Kooser poem:
What cicadas leave behind is a kind of crystallized memory;
The stubborn detail of, the shape around a life turned
Tagged with: Lagoon
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