I smile as I recall trips with my family to feed the ducks, a common outing when we were small. The pond seemed more immense then, the island more mysterious. The willows, though, are exactly the same. We always hoped the swan would be there. If we were really lucky it might be the black one. You know, I still keep bags of bread crusts in my freezer for just this water fowl purpose. I suppose I should go, huh? The last time I tried to feed them, though, there were only geese and... Well, we'll get to that.
I remember sitting on the grass many years later to study for the GRE. Then, when I had to shoot my first weather video, while working for KKTV (that's all they let me do for a while), I came here and watched the willows weep with the rain. (What? It's true!)
I've wandered here. I've searched for answers here. I shot a poetry film here for Price Strobridge's poem, "Prism." It went all the way to Vancouver. This place, that is my place went to Canada, and I stayed right here.
I didn't discover the sundial until a few years ago. I frickin' love this sundial. It reads: "Time Makes Love Go. Love Makes Time Go."
If you read it this way, though, it just says, "Go. Go." or, "Goog."
The sundial isn't relevant to anything actually, except for I love it, and think it's enchanting, and I kind of want to visit it immediately. It's part of this poetic place, which I also love, and.... Goog!
Right so... The whole reason I'm writing this (sort of, maybe, I guess) is that a few years back, and well after I already knew about the sundial, I asked someone to meet me here. Raise your hand if you know this story? It's one right out of a movie. In fact it's the catalyst for this entire I Didn't See that Coming web series, and perhaps, my life as I know it... but, I digress.
I truly thought he would show. He had to, right? When you devise a grand scheme for a hopeless romantic, he always shows.
Nope. Not this time.
In my line-a-day journal I wrote: "I went out on a crazy limb and told ______ to meet me at the park. I had coffee, cake, crappy poetry, and a lot of humility. He didn't show..."
*Insert Collective "Awwwww."
No you guys. It's fine. Really. This was a long time ago. This was once upon a time. This is just the story about the pond. I don't think he was ever supposed to show. I'm glad he didn't. I'm actually really glad he didn't, because everything that came after is 500 times better than what may have happened had he walked around that bend. Sometimes I don't even think I should be writing this one, which is dumb, because as noted, I was the only one there, which makes it my story to tell or not tell if I want to. There's a bit more to the end, but I'll save that for the episode.
I will say that I got chased by some geese, and the willow wept. Never feed geese. Just don't.
The webisode's been really hard to edit into a second draft. It's not that it's painful to go back there. In fact, I have no problem going to this place, or describing it, or even writing about it now. It's really the monologue in my main character's head that I keep writing and re-writing, and writing again, and then deleting. It'll come... Maybe it just did.
I think I left something behind that day at the pond -- a little bit of romanticism, perhaps. Maybe I need to go and get it, or maybe it found me again on its own. I don't know, but I bet my sundial does.
So... I wonder what the aforementioned crappy poetry was? I don't think I want to know, but am simultaneously curious. I'd forgotten that part until I read the journal entry again today.
Goog!
