Two swans swim side by side. Around me, the crisp warmth of a new spring brushes over the blossoming trees, blooming flowers, and dewy grass. A faint song, one composed by birds’ unseen, kisses my ears softly. I rest my legs onto a dark green bench, still ripe with the night’s rains. Should have known, I think silently while laughing to myself. The swans float slowly under the arched bridge. The bridge’s age was shown by the swans. A vibrant white covered the swan’s feathers, beak to toe. The bridge once shared that color. I remember seeing it for that first time.
It was the spring of 1950, the first warmth of the new decade. Randy excitedly punched my arm as the clock slowly inched closer to 3pm, then we were out for a whole week! A purer form of joy rarely grazed my heart than that of a Friday before a break.
“Cut it out, Randy!” I snapped, already feeling the bruises form.
Either he didn’t hear me, or he didn’t care because he continued to ramble off all the amazing things he had planned for this week, “Then we’re gonna go to the beach with my grandparents! Then I’m gonna eat a tub of ice cream! Then we’re gonna make s’mores! Then
we’re gonna…”
I tried to tune him out and gave up attempts to make him stop hitting my arm, half my shoulder was already numb, so what’s a little more? I was always jealous of Randy and the other guys; they always went away during spring break while I was stuck working at my dad’s
bookstore. Stocking shelves all day without an extra dime in my pocket, even when I was eight, I knew there was something fishy about that.
Still though, any number of hours in a bookstore is better than a day at school.
“3!… 2!… 1! Spring break!” The class all cheered at once. I quickly snatched up my book bag and bolted out the door, trailing behind Randy and the other guys. At lunch, we realized that I had an hour between school getting out and my shift at the store starting, so we decided to spend it together. The Memorial Park reopened last week, decorated with a brand-new playground, bridge, and freshly cleaned pond. We had to check it out.
The tight collar of the school uniforms combined with the lumpy backpack made running a pain, but the excitement to hang out with Randy and the other guys kept me going, even if I was a decent way behind them. Finally, after what felt like running forever (in hindsight it was only a 5-minute jog), we made it to Memorial. I rushed past the fancy new gate, the freshly plowed baseball field, and the new basketball hoops, I could check all those out later. At the top
of my list was the new playground. Boy was it worth it! And to my surprise, Randy and the other guys were the first ones there! None of the other kids from school could run as fast as ol’ Randy. The new structure was off the charts cool. There was a twirly slide, a net to climb on, two sets of monkey bars next to one another for races, rows of swings that went on for miles, and so much more. We started up a game of manhunt that didn’t last long because Stanley tripped and scraped his knee. After patching Stanley up with some dirt and spit, I wanted to go check out the bridge and pond. Randy and the other guys agreed, seeing that I only had another thirty minutes before I
had to go to the bookstore. The pond was a magnificent tell of what the future had in store. The bridge hung high
above the deep blue below. It was arched, painted with a vibrant white. The color had a glow that told me a thing this pure would never cease. The railings were ornate figures that protected little kids from falling and mothers from heart attacks. We rushed to the peak of the arch. Gripping tightly on the rail we peaked our heads over the edge.
“I’m gonna perfect my backflip this summer with the help of this thing!” Randy exclaimed.
Me and the other guys cheered him on.
We began to race around the pond, tackling and pushing each other to show our love without ever explicitly saying so. Randy pushed me into a pit of mud, I laughed and started to hurl mud pies at Randy and the other guys. A spring snowball fight ensued. By the end of it we were all laughing so hard none of us could move.
“Guys! Check this out!” Randy yelled while we all washed ourselves off in the pond. He’d discovered a perfectly flat rock. So smooth it was like the earth formed it solely for
skipping. Randy winded up his arm and with the grace of all the rock skippers before him, he sent the disk skipping along the pond’s circumference.
Seven perfect jumps, the rock had, before it came down with a plop right under the bridge.
Me and the other guys went wild after seeing what Randy just did. Our youthful masculinity had us immediately searching for our own rocks to skip. The bits of earth I found were lumpy and unfit for skipping, though the feeling of throwing a rock into a pool of water
was, in itself, amazingly enjoyable.
We skipped rocks and talked about spring break for another 10 minutes before I said, “Alright guys, one more rock.”
They all mocked me for having a job as I searched for one last rock to skip. Finally, right
near the edge of the pond, sat a circular rock, smooth on all sides. My heart skipped a beat while I winded up my arm, hoping I could be as cool as Randy. I had my target locked, but right before I released the greatest rock ever skipped, something caught my eye.
Two swans.
Their beaks were touched together, forming a heart. Across the pond they floated still, beaks together. Inside this heart was a girl I had never seen before. She was very pretty, the prettiest girl I had ever seen in my long eight years on this planet. For what felt like hours, I
stared hopelessly at this girl, imagining the life we would share together. I felt myself drop the rock back into the water, the thought of this girl was too much for my body to handle everything
at once. The natural heart, her beautiful smile, the newborn flowers, the air of a new week. It was all perfect.
Suddenly, the sound of a rock skipping caught up with my ears as I watched the two swans break the heart and fly away. Randy had skipped a rock at them.
I gaze now upon the bridge, its breath of fresh life ceased along with the rest of the park. I wish Randy never skipped that rock. That way, she could have stayed in that heart for a little
while longer. I wish I had more time to appreciate her, spent more time simply appreciating what she brought to this world, but like the heart, she was gone too soon. Luck still blessed me, for every image that filled my head when I first saw her came true, except one.
I lay one flower into the pond and let it slowly drift away. I’ve grown comfortable with letting the flowers go. I’ve placed ten into this pond so far.
One for every year she’s been gone.
Owen Smith, ’27