Thursday, March 15, 2012

At The Lake: A Journal Entry

By David Marcus Karp


As we walked through the marble stone gate, we were presented by a small pathway for runners and, next to it, a wall that went to about our chest. We quickly climbed over the wall and, revealed to us, were large concrete steps that led down to the lakefront.
            We made our way down briskly (or jumped our way down rather, since the steps were more built for giants) and stood right over the water. It swayed with a calmness that was almost silent and the waves were nowhere near menacing. Out in the distance, you saw the sky, almost absent of all sunlight, meet the water. It was a perfect meeting of the abyss and the unknown, as both seemed to continue on forever in peaceful coexistence.
            We turned around to an equally pleasant scene. On the right side of the steps we had  just made our way down, there were three kids, all dressed in black, and one of them playing an acoustic guitar. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was playing, but they seemed content and the notes went well with the surprisingly warm breeze that haunted the moment. In front of us, on top of the wall, the couple that was making out were cuddled together in each other’s arms, watching the same silent water that we had come to notice. Their hands were locked together and they smiled with the content of each other’s company. To the left, a few friends were just hanging out, talking, and enjoying the warm night.
            There weren’t too many people around besides them and us, except for a few people that still walked the path behind the wall, their upper body bobbing up and down like puppets on an oversized stage, their lower half cut off from view by concrete. It had just reached the end of any sunlight that shined on the day, and would be totally dark in just a few minutes.
            Watching…no…feeling the scene around me, I took a few deep breaths and realized that I had no worries at that moment. I had no fears, I didn’t feel anything bad, I felt content, I felt like nothing could hurt me. I had good company in a peaceful home-away-from-home setting.
            I turned to T.J., one of my best friends, and we talked about life after college and the future ahead. Unlike me, he is graduating on time and hoping to go off to Northern Ireland for a year for a service project. As for me, I have an extra semester here, which I can’t complain about, and walk next year. It’s going to be nice staying in Chicago though and see where life takes me. But, at the moment, life took me to the lake after a crazy weekend, and every ounce of me was happy with that.
            You see, T.J. and I spent the whole weekend on close to no sleep. It was maybe a total of seven hours of sleep in 72 hours.  Thanks to a bout of insomnia, I didn’t sleep at all Friday night and instead, went to my favorite cafĂ© when they opened at 5:30 am and had breakfast, then went home, took a little 3 hour nap, and went off for another day of adventures with T.J. The next night, I feel sleep around 3:00am (which was really 4:00am because of daylight savings time…damn it) and woke up about 5 hours later to start the busy day. T.J. stayed up until about 5:00 a.m. Friday night, but still didn’t get much sleep. The next night, though I didn’t ask him, we were still out pretty late together so I’m sure he was up awhile.
            I’m not sure if this was the contributing factor to the peace that surrounded me at that moment on the lake, but there was also another feeling. In addition to the calm night that surrounded me, there was also a looming air of something beginning or even ending. It felt like being home but, at the same time, being lost. Lost in something unfamiliar yet unthreatening.
            I climbed the small ladder that lead down to the water to see how cold it was and as I hung off the yellow metallic ladder and stuck my hand in the water, the sensation of the softest fabric you could ever touch warmed my skin, silently and motherly. It held my hand and greeted me with confidence. I slowly took my hand out, climbed up the ladder slowly, and told T.J. that it wasn’t too cold.
            We talked and joked for a few minutes as a few stars appeared in the darkness above us like very distant headlights, and as we watched them, I listened to my breath and let that same unknown feeling of happiness, content, and unknown flow through my mind and my body. It did feel like a beginning or an end. It’s silence was the loudest poem to echo in my ears. I turned to T.J.
            “Doesn’t this kind of feel like the ending of something. Like a movie, or something.”

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