After several weeks in winter’s frigid depths, I woke this morning to find bright sunshine and melting snow. To match the light, airy feeling that it inspired, I chose an image for my art display that featured a sunrise over the calm waters of a pond in springtime.
The sunrise photo reminded me of the imaginary pond in Channelwood, the tiny village where I send my stressed-out younger selves to relax. It wasn’t the same area where Peter had been skimming stones in a June blog entry, but it could easily have been another view of the pond. I took a deep breath and pictured myself there, breathing in the fresh air.
Peter and his usual companions were nowhere to be seen. When I turned to the right, I noticed a little girl who looked comfortable in a light cloth poncho over a navy blue dress, with knee socks and penny loafers. She hadn’t been among the visitors to Channelwood before today, but she was immediately recognizable as my seven-year-old past self.
“Well, hello there, Ponch,” I greeted her cheerfully, giving her a nickname just for the fun of it. “What a beautiful morning it is.”
“Mom always wants me to wear the poncho when the temperature is between 60 and 70 Fah-ren-heit,” she informed me, with the last word in a singsong tone, as if enjoying the sound. “And if it’s colder, then I have to wear a coat. The thermometer in the window wasn’t quite at the 60 mark when I came outside, but Mom didn’t notice. And she won’t, either, because she was too busy complaining again about Dad getting a convertible. That’s why I came here, so I wouldn’t have to listen to that. I like the convertible because it’s such a pretty sky blue, and it’s fun when we go to the beach. I want them to quit arguing.”
I found myself wishing I could return to those days of innocence while, at the same time, feeling sorry for my younger self because I knew they weren’t going to last much longer.
“They love you very much and want to take good care of you,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “even if you have to wear a coat sometimes. And when you grow up, that doesn’t mean life has to be a struggle, doing everything on your own. There will be kind people who can help when you need it, because the world is full of them. You just have to look.”
Although I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was trying to convince Ponch or myself, she smiled a little before turning aside to gaze out over the pond—and I felt better too.
