On the Karfi ferry from Washington Island to Rock Island, the lake breeze tried to wash our faces clean, attempting to brush away all the woes, stress, hurt, and fear from our foreheads. Dave and I looked at each other with the acknowledgment that it was the beginning of the healing, the first awareness that we were on a journey to a new life.
After setting up the sun-bleached, musky old tent at campsite number nineteen, Dave and I walked the dogs towards the shore to watch the sun set. Cool water licked the bottoms of our feet as we stood on the rocks barefoot, receiving our second sensation of freedom since the accident.
On the island, watching the sun settle its heavy belly on the water, we sighed. Our hands found each other and held together tightly. Enjoying the silence, we did not have to say it again. Our new mantra need not repeating, the mantra we created the night I realized the store was going to fail, the night before the accident. We knew. As long as we stick together, everything is going to be fine. As long as we stick together, everything will be alright.
Our free hands wiped tears from our salty cheeks. The world sounded so distant, muted, finally. Through the fuzziness from the tears, I thought I saw angels floating towards us. I had to work to clear thick tears from my eyes to see eleven swans glide in front of us, their heads bowed in prayer. No one said a word, not even the dogs. No seagull spoiled the peace. We found ourselves in a sanctuary. Sweet music of the lake breeze, accompanied by the modest lapping of the water on the rocks, hushed us into meditation.
As the sun stretched powerful reds and orange across the sky and water, the swans quietly prayed in front of us. Their long necks so strong yet so elegant. Their wings so powerful, yet so delicate. They stayed, guarding us, blessing us, giving us solace.
We woke in the morning to the swans. We napped on the beach knowing the swans were there. We wished sweet dreams to our swans before we put our campfire out and crawled into our tent with the warm dogs. We dreamed of the swans; a happy replacement to the sweaty nightmares of crashing metal, calling 911, bankruptcy...
We whispered thanks to the swans each of the four days we camped. I wanted to spill my heart out to those swans and they would have carefully listened. Words were not necessary. Without making eye contact, these swans illuminated our dreams with new hope, fresh serenity.
As we rolled up the tent, stuffed our sandy clothes back into our packs, and loaded each other up for the hike to the ferry, the swans bowed, turned, and slowly swam away. Tears dropped from our eyes and fell onto our smiling lips.
Dave looked at me, squeezed my hand, and said, “Those swans are carrying all of our troubles away on their backs.”
Now, almost two years later, I can attest to you that they did.
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Comments: 24
This short story is full of life, emotion and hope. A calming read before I can it a night.
Thanks so much for posting this to
my group
The camping genre resonates with you; I know you have the experience, and it shows in the lines about the cool water on bare feet, and your wonderful heavy-bellied sun. A moment pregnant with possibility.
I must be true to our pact, and so some thoughts on things I might modify. :-)
At the end of the first paragraph, I want to feel something more renewing than "first" awareness...I think of "birthing of an awareness," or "the first kindling of an awareness." I might then try to extend that metaphor to the "second" mention of freedom in the second paragraph.
Our new mantra need not repeating...should this read need no repeating?
I find myself wanting something to hang onto when you mention the world sounding muted...are you hearing something here or just imagining? This made me lose the feeling for just a second.
The rest of this is stupendous. Really powerful, poignant, and touching. So nice to have you back, Laura.
Thanks.
What I would have preferred for clarity, would have been saying the swans "appeared" to be praying. When you have them described as praying, you add an element of unreality that jars the realism a bit.
Assuming this is fiction, I would have suggested that either the bankruptcy or the accident would have been enough as something from which they were healing.
I should say it again, more directly: I enjoyed this, for the cautiously hopeful and optimistic tone contrasted with all you endured. You told the story well.
is certainly memorable!