Memories from Beneath

“MIKEY!!!” “MIKEY!!!”

I could hear my sister’s panicked voice echo in my ears. And then the echo returned across the frozen pond.

“Mikey… Mikey”

I propped myself up on one elbow and waved at the now distant shoreline, shouting back.

“I’M OKAY! ONE MINUTE MORE IS ALL I NEED. DON’T WORRY”

Returning to my prone position, laying flat on my stomach in the middle of the frozen pond I wiped more snow away from the top of the frozen ice. Peering down into the ice I could see it. There it was, the leather journal half frozen into the ice. Looking at it in full sunlight I could see the shamrock and leaf emblems attached to the leather string that wraps around the whole journal.

The bottom half of the journal was frozen solid into about one-half inch of ice. This time of year it was a solid ice too. With the point of my knife I started to chip away at the bottom half of the journal, working my way around the entire book.

As often happens in winter when the sun fully hits the frozen ice, the pond will send off loud cracks and booms. All it really means is that the frozen water expands in some places, pushing into already frozen ice, much like the shifting tectonic plates beneath the earth’s surface. The frozen pond is a living thing.

Hearing one of those loud cracks followed by a boom below the frozen ice, the next thing I heard was my sister’s panicked voice again. This time a little bit shriller than and as commanding as she could make it.

“MIKEY!!! DAMN IT! GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE! NOW!!”

That last “now” came to my ears just as I freed the journal from its icy prison. Holding the journal up in my hand, I yelled back.

“OKAY SIS! ON MY WAY BACK TO YOU NOW”

“LOOK!!! I GOT IT!!!”

Then the echo…“Mikey! Damn it!”… made me smile as if the earth and air were colluding with my sister to get me off the ice.

I had to take a moment, though, and peer down into the slow moving, almost slushy water under the ice. That time of winter, the ice was at least three inches thick so there was very little risk of my breaking the ice and falling into the cold water. But it always amazes me to look into the pond, under the ice and realize how cold that water must be since it moves so slowly.

What I saw there surprised me. In the full sunlight I could see faint glimmers of gold, green jewel colors, and what looked like pots or jars. Each jar had a cork lid with writing on the side. I couldn’t read the entire script but saw words like “ashes”, “lovers”, and “indulgences”. Strange I thought to myself, this little pile of treasures down at the bottom of the pond. Then the water moved again and covered the whole lot with a layer of silt and slowly moving dirt or mud.

Having seen enough I slowly rose to my feet. Half sliding and half skating I made my way through the snow-covered ice to where my sister was anxiously waiting. When I was back on firm, frozen ground, she let out a huge sigh.

Alice: “Mikey, don’t ever do that to me again. You are some kind of fool to go out on the ice like that especially with the sun shining and the temperatures warming up. And wipe that stupid grin off your face, it’s not funny!”

Me: “Okay Alice, but look!”, I said, holding the leather journal out for her inspection. It felt heavy from the frozen ice still clinging to the edges.

Me: “Look at what I recovered. It was exactly where Larry said it would be, middle of the pond, nearly on top of the frozen ice. Took a bit of digging but I managed to break it free.”

Alice: “Ohhhhhhh. I thought Larry was crazy when he told us about this journal but I guess you proved me wrong.” Taking the journal from my frozen fingers, she turned it over and over handling it like a lost treasure. Carefully inspecting the shamrock and the leaf, Alice slowly removed the leather thong and clasp that held the pages together. Tracing the runes in the bottom right corner of the cover with her index finger she said aloud.

Alice: “Gràdh agus sìth do dhuine sam bith a leughas na duilleagan seo”, pronouncing each word carefully in the Scottish Gaelic she knew so well.

Me: “Aw c’mon sis! You know I don’t know the home language like you do! Haud yer weesht an get oan wae it – translate to English for me please.”

Alice: “Love and peace to any who read these pages”, she said with her thick Scottish accent.

We found a frozen log to sit on after swiping the snow off with my now gloved hand. Sitting in full sunshine, Alice gently opened the journal, like one who loves books, to the page held by the green leather marker and started to read aloud.

Alice: “Dorchadas na gealaich

A ’nochdadh gu socair far an lòn reòta

Uisge slaodach gluasadach fodha

Sreathan de chruas tiugh”

Me: “SIS! As magical as the Gaelic sounds, I would appreciate it if you can translate so I can understand the words too.”

She looked at me with those elvish green eyes I recognize, a little bit impish like she just might not translate. But the look disappeared in an instant and she returned to the journal page, reading out loud again, her long red hair falling down around her ears.

Alice: “The darkness of the moon

Reflecting softly off the frozen pond

Shimmering slow water underneath

Layers of thick hardness”

She looked at me with a deep sense of wonder covering her face. I could tell by her expression she was already enthralled with the beginnings of what would be a lovely poem. I sat back and closed my eyes as she continued to read from the journal, letting the words wash over me like a newly found gift.

Alice:”Not easily broken or viewed from within

Easier to sound the depths from without

Outside looking down

Scraping away fragments of remembered dreams”

“Dreams that float like snowflakes

Softly swirling into madness

Covering thick hard ice completely

Appearing to blanket the darkness delicately”

“One hand wiping them away in an instant

Opening a window into the darkest moon shadows

Peering into a new world

Yet undiscovered by any”

“Casting fiery eyes deeper

Into the world below

Earth and water and humanity

Together in harmony at last”

“Untold mysteries and stories

Buried silently now

In the darkness of the moonbeams

Barely reaching through the cold slow water”

“To find points of moonlight shadows

Sharing pangs of forgotten memories

From yesterday and long ago

Before the frozen surface covered it all”

“What can be seen in the darkness

Enlightens the soul

Flashes of green gems encrusted with hope

Floated silently down”

“Down to where ashes of old lovers

And harmless indulgences

Meet to gather silt and remain

Enlivened only by a glimpse of dark blue midnight”

“Sounding deep into the well of sight

The unseen not heard

Forever resting in the gloom

Until one dark moon uncovers them again”

“Bringing racing hearts together

Peering down and down

Reaching up from the depths

To meet with fate’s burning eyes”

“Cold slurry water moving under thick ice

Like slow motion waves to distant shores

Making deeper treasures appear

From the mirror of the moon”

“Knowing kindred spirits

Rest upon the murky ground

Seeing remnants of what once was

The treasures and mysteries of freedom souls”

“Light playing tricks on feeble minds

Showing less or more of things lost

Until there is no more now

Only what lies beneath”

“Then clouds cover the moon

Taking away that glimpse of hope

The frozen depths remain

Intentional hiding covering deep mysteries”

Alice took a deep breath and slowly closed the journal, wrapping the leather and emblems around the cover again. She looked at me and I sighed then said.

Me: “Under the ice in the full sun I could see glimpses of gold, green jewels and jars with the words “ashes” and “lovers” and “indulgences”. These must have been the treasures the poet refers to in his verses.”

Barely able to contain my sense of grief at these lost memories, I stood up and so did Alice. In silence, with the full sun in its late afternoon position, we walked slowly back home.

For those of you who understand Scottish Gaelic, the poem from the journal, as written, is reproduced here:

“Dorchadas na gealaich

A ’nochdadh gu socair far an lòn reòta

Uisge slaodach gluasadach fodha

Sreathan de chruas tiugh”

“Chan eil e furasta a bhriseadh no fhaicinn bhon taobh a-staigh

Nas fhasa a bhith a ’fuaim na doimhneachd às an aonais

Taobh a-muigh a ’coimhead sìos

A ’sgrìobadh air falbh criomagan de aislingean cuimhneachail”

“Dreams a bhios a ’fleòdradh mar mhaoimean-sneachda

Gluais gu socair gu cuthach

A ’còmhdach deigh chruaidh tiugh gu tur

A ’nochdadh gus an dorchadas a chòmhdach gu fìnealta”

“Aon làmh gan sguabadh air falbh sa bhad

A ’fosgladh uinneag a-steach do na sgàilean gealach as dorcha

A ’coimhead a-steach do shaoghal ùr

Ach cha do lorg duine sam bith e”

“A ’tilgeadh sùilean teine nas doimhne

A-steach don t-saoghal gu h-ìosal

Talamh agus uisge agus daonnachd

Còmhla ann an co-sheirm mu dheireadh”

“Dìomhaireachdan agus sgeulachdan gun innse

Tiodhlaiceadh gu sàmhach a-nis

Ann an dorchadas na gealaich

Glè bheag a ’ruighinn tron uisge slaodach”

“Gus puingean de sgàil solas na gealaich a lorg

A ’roinneadh pangs de chuimhneachain a dhìochuimhnich

Bho an-dè agus o chionn fhada

Mus do chòmhdaich an uachdar reòta a h-uile càil”

Dè a chithear anns an dorchadas

A ’soilleireachadh an anam

Flashes de ghems air an sgeadachadh le dòchas

Floated gu sàmhach sìos

“Sìos gu far a bheil luaithre seann leannan

Agus indulgences gun chron

Coinnich gus silt a chruinneachadh agus fuireach

Air a bheòthachadh a-mhàin le sealladh de mheadhan-oidhche dorcha gorm”

“A ’fuaimeachadh gu domhainn a-steach do tobar an t-seallaidh

Cha chualas an fheadhainn nach fhacas

Gu bràth a ’gabhail fois anns a’ ghruaim

Gus an lorg aon ghealach dorcha iad a-rithist”

“A ’toirt cridheachan rèisidh còmhla

A ’coimhead sìos is sìos

A ’ruighinn suas bhon doimhneachd

Gus coinneachadh ri sùilean losgaidh cinnidh”

“Uisge slaodach fuar a ’gluasad fo deigh tiugh

Coltach ri tonnan gluasad slaodach gu cladaichean fad às

A ’dèanamh ulaidhean nas doimhne a’ nochdadh

Bho sgàthan na gealaich”

“A ’faighinn eòlas air spioradan coibhneil

Fuirich air an talamh meallta

A ’faicinn fuigheall de na bha uaireigin

Ulaidhean agus dìomhaireachdan anaman soars”

“Cleasan cluich aotrom air inntinnean fann

A ’sealltainn nas lugha no barrachd de rudan air chall

Gus nach eil barrachd ann a-nis

Is e dìreach na tha gu h-ìosal”

“An uairsin bidh sgòthan a ’còmhdach na gealaich

A ’toirt air falbh an sealladh dòchas sin

Tha an doimhneachd reòta fhathast

A ’falach a’ còmhdach dìomhaireachdan domhainn”