The Pond by Haleigh Dixon

The pond sat like a gem in the distance. I have lived here for years but remained regretfully unaware of its presence. Almost as if someone draped my eyes in wool and told me to stay away. But the pond called to me like a siren in the blissful wake of clouds. I looked through the smudges on the car window. I saw a family of ducks with their ducklings nestled at their mother's bosom. They walked blissfully amongst the brown droppings that lay freely along the pathways. When my feet met the sidewalk, I avoided all obstacles and focused on reaching my prize. The pavilion stood elegantly with two sturdy arms diligently holding the roof. I smelled the earthy scent of grass and rain floating through the air. At that moment, I didn't care if the rain caught me in its teasing pitter-patter because my neurons were constructing happy little pathways. I couldn't live with a simple memory in my frontal cortex. I needed proof that I was there and that the pond existed. Though the rain was warning me, I took out my camera. I decided I wouldn’t leave until I took a piece of this incredible view with me.