The Old Pond

Have you ever been to a place that made you feel free? As free as a bird soaring through the sky? The Old Pond was that place for me, and though I haven’t seen its sandy edges in what seems like an eternity, I still remember it like it was yesterday. As I think about the place that once brought me such joy, I am suddenly there again. The scent of the giant pine trees, the feeling of the pond’s minnows tickling my feet, the sunshine cascading down from the opening of the trees. No other place has ever made me feel so in touch with nature, and so in touch with myself. I think of the Old Pond, my mind brewing a concoction of memories, and my childhood is reborn.

Our daily regimen at the park was quite simple. Our day started early. We always awoke to the children on our street riding their bicycles or the sizzling sound of pancakes being made on a griddle. You could hear the excitement of the children’s voices as they tooted their horns or rang their bells. The rich aroma of my father’s coffee filled the campsite. It’s how I always knew he was up before the rest of us. I would wake up to these sounds and smells every morning while there. These sounds and smells were a sure sign that summer was here.

After breakfast, we spread sun block on our milky white bodies like butter, starting at our shoulders then spreading it down towards our feet. We would put together our goggles, noodle rafts, towels, sunglasses, walkmans, and flip-flops. We were ready for the beach!

My cousins and I swam for hours. My Aunt called us fish because we never wanted to come out of the water. At noon, to our own reluctance, we were forced out of the water to eat lunch. I ate peanut butter and jelly. By the time I had finished ea...

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...ome at all.

Thinking back of the Old Pond, my mind brewing its concoction of memories, I can still see myself on the beach eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, riding down the hill with Krista, swimming hours upon hours in the pond, plastering my face with makeup to impress the boys, playing at the playground on summer nights, sitting around the campfire, winning at bingo, hearing the sounds and smelling the scents that made me remember summer at the camp so well, is all too familiar. But looking at the new way Peter’s Pond was set up to its campers, my childhood became a distant memory and only a lingering feeling in the back of my mind. That day I put Peter’s Pond behind me, but to this day, I still relish in the fact that I know without that place, my childhood would not have been what it was. I think of Peter’s Pond, and my childhood is reborn.