His Dad's Pond

It was an endless sea of concrete as far as he could see. John had gotten to exactly where he wanted to be, yet every time he looked out the window of his twelfth story apartment, all he could see was a sea of concrete for miles on end. This was the life of someone who now had no life, working sixty hours a week, coming home, eating dinner, and going to bed. He told himself that he needed a break. He even had the accumulated vacation time he could use any time he wanted. Yet, he just couldn't. Or wouldn't. This time, however, as he glanced over the sea of concrete, a memory came back to him. It was one that would take him to another world entirely, but was it merely a dream....

When John was but ten years old, his father had told him stories about this lovely pond near where he grew up. He talked about how in winter, they would skate upon the sea of ice with all their friends, slipping and sliding around. At night, they would sit by a crackling campfire telling stories of their fathers and grandfathers. They would laugh and drink cocoa and eat half burnt hot dogs. Once they were done, they would return to the warmth of the cabin and enjoy the rest of the night next to the crackling fireplace.

John's father told this story once a month for the entirety of the year. John didn't really believe it as it seemed to get more fanciful each time he told it. He didn't quite understand why dad was telling him about the pond and the campfire. Then, his dad was gone. John's dad had died in a tragic accident the very next year. He had cried for many a night on end with his mom at his side doing the same thing. As he grew up, he forgot about the pond and the campfire and they were replaced by books and studying. So, why, all of a sudden did this memory come back to him. Maybe it was a sign? John decided he had to do something about it. He decided to go visit the pond, if it even existed, that dad was talking about.

The very next morning, John called the human resources department where he worked and told them he was going to embark on a vacation to his past. They didn't know quite what that meant. John is not really sure he knew quite what that meant, but he assured them he was not crazy. He planned the vacation for exactly two weeks to the day from that date.

The time seemed to go by exceedingly fast for John, which was good because he couldn't get that image of the pond out of his head. Each day at work, when he had free time, he would see the image of the pond and a cabin in the woods. Finally, John stepped out of work and bid his coworkers adieu for two long weeks. They thanked him and told him to have a good time.

John had already packed most of his stuff in anticipation of the trip. He was a meticulous planner. He just checked to make sure he had all the necessities. He realized he had left out some shaving cream, so quickly grabbed some from the bathroom and tossed it in his suitcase. He planned on getting some sleep before rising at three in the morning to begin the seven hour trip to The Pond.

John slapped his alarm clock as he woke up. It was a daily ritual but this was entirely too early, he thought. He glanced down and realized that it was indeed three in the morning and time to wake and begin the long journey to The Pond. He packed all his stuff carefully into his car, making sure he hadn't left anything behind and slowly began to pull out of the parking garage.

John glanced at his watch. It had been two long hours since he had started on his journey. He could now actually see some of the stars and not just bright lights and a faded moon. He hadn't been out of the city proper in a while and it was a beautiful sight to behold. He glanced down at his dashboard and could see he still had around half a tank of gas. A sign on the side of the road indicated fifty miles to the next town. Not knowing the area well, John decided he would get gas at that town to make sure he was good for the rest of the journey.

John could see a few lights up ahead, but nothing that indicated any kind of reasonably sized town. Indeed, as he approached the town sign, it indicated a population below 100. Certainly there had to be a gas station somewhere though. Luckily, he saw the bright lights of a truck stop ahead of him. He slowly pulled in and stretched as he got out of his car to go inside. There was one lone attendant in the station, who was gabbing with a local trucker as John came in. The trucker tipped his hat toward John and stopped talking for a second. John dropped down a fifty and indicated that should be enough gas for him. The attendant hit a few buttons and then went back to gabbing with the trucker. John made his way back out of the station and back toward his car to start fueling it up. He stretched a bit and realized just how out of shape he was. A short time later, the gas pump clicked, indicating it was done. Fifty dollars sure didn't go as long as it used to at the gas station. After making sure he had his cap secure on his fuel tank, John got back in his car and started it up again.

Not long after he started up his journey again, John noticed the glowing light of sunrise. The road he was on begain to become more bumpy as he went, turning from asphalt to mostly gravel with a few assorted potholes that made it a bit more bumpy. John carefully glanced at his map to make sure he was headed in the right direction. A small sign ahead of him indicated the small town he was looking for was just a few miles in the distance. He figured he would find someone that could point him the rest of the way to where he wanted to go. This town had no population sign whatsoever. It looked like a relic from the past with a saloon and general store on the main street and some oil lamps were still burning at the corner. John got out of his car and walked into the general store. He was met by a small, pudgy gentleman who heartily greeted him. John asked him where The Pond was. The man looked up for a second and then said, "oh you mean that thing", and snickered a tad. "Well, just take a right and head all out of town, following the gravel until you go past a few log cabins. You will see it past that." John wasn't still really sure where exactly he was heading. He hadn't gotten this far in any of his dreams. He slowly made his way down the dirt road the man had told him about and stopped at the first log cabin he got to when he saw a light on the porch and what appeared to be an older lady sitting in a rocking chair. He slowly approached her and said hello. She took off her glasses and glanced back at him and with startled eyes said, "Is that you, John Junior!" It's me, Auntie Mae." John thought for a few seconds if he could remember his dad mentioning an Auntie Mae, but nothing came to him. He politely said hello as if he knew her and she gave him a massive bearhug, which nearly took all the breath out of him.

John and Mae chatted for at least an hour, according to his watch, at which time he indicated he had to find The Pond. "Oh, that thing," she laughed. Now, John was becoming concerned. Mae was now the second person to call The Pond "that thing". "Let me show you," she said as she slowly got up from her rocking chair. She walked around the side of the cabin and John followed her. She pointed toward a somewhat circular area of woods covered with a lot of mud all around it. John inquired as to why she was pointing at a circle of trees. She said, "that's the pond." John stood there, somewhat confused for a minute and finally asked, "umm but there is no water over there." Mae explained that during the winter time, water will flood into the area there because it is lower in elevation than the surrounding area. It tends to sit and stagnate there and eventually, when the temperature gets low enough, it will freeze over. You can't really do anything there because there are so many trees in the area. Back when there were more folk living around here, they used to fence the area off, but now it's just a local attraction that people know to avoid in the wintertime, she said. John stood there, dismayed for a few moments. Mae, sensing his distress, comforted him. "Don't," she said. Your father believed in The Pond. He may not have been able to swim in or skate on it, but he always dreamed about it." He used to tell us about his dreams of skating on it with all of us and then sitting around a lovely campfire. John recognized the dream Mae was talking about. It was the same memory that his dad had shared with him. That area was important to him, clearly, John realized.

After a couple more hours musing with Mae, John realized it was starting to get late. Mae offered to fix dinner for them and John accepted. She lit the fireplace and noted, "this part is still real." "We really did sit around a warm fireplace at night in the cold winters." She picked up a cup of piping hot liquid and handed it to John. John looked around the setting for a minute, remembering what his father had told him so many years earlier. Did it matter that The Pond was not real. No, he decided. In his dad's mind it was and that's all that mattered.

John realized the time was flying away and politely excused himself for the night. He would go home tomorrow, but the view from his apartment would be forever changed. He would no longer see just a sea of endless concrete. The Pond would be forever embedded in his memories and in his life. It was important to his father, so it would be important to him.