When the Ice Melts

It’s been a few days since the snowstorm blew in, one I was not prepared for in any way. Nonetheless, I endured, the temperature was brutal, the winds strong, pounding at the walls of the cabin. As I stand looking out the window, violent flurries of snowflakes dance with erratic movements caused by the random change in direction of the wind. The sun never truly disappears from the night sky, a faint glow on the horizon can be seen, but in no way was I fooled into thinking it was safe to venture outside, if only to replenish my stack of logs by the stone fireplace. My current supply will have to do.

I resign myself to the idea of going to bed fully clothed, leggings with a pant over top, thick wool socks, three shirts, gloves and knit cap with a parka to finish off. The cabin wasn’t especially large, but suitable for my needs, six steps from the window to reach my single bed then another eight to the right to reach the front door. My only occupants, a single table with a chair, a long counter opposite the bed for food preparation. It seems the storm will take a while to abate, so with nothing else to do but wait, I lay down waiting for my dreams to take me.

*********

The following morning, greeted by sunshine, the storm blew over, stiff and feeling like a block of ice. Knowing I couldn’t stay motionless or risk never finding the strength to leave the bed. Forcing stiff joints to move after a prolonged period in one position is excruciating, especially when those pins and needles make an appearance. My main concern though after rising, was to relight the fire that had gone out during the night by replacing the burned-out logs. Once done, collecting more firewood is a must, the storm having dissipated made my job a lot easier.

Heading outside, a sea of white greeted me, along with a sparse scattering of bare trees in the immediate vicinity, then gradually growing denser the deeper I travel into the forest. Directly ahead of me, a path I try to avoid as much as possible, some days I find it difficult to smother the urge to travel it, today was not one of those days. That way only led to pain as I’ve only just experienced with the storm’s arrival. Shaking myself out of those thoughts I get to work. There was always something to do, which allowed me the distraction I needed; though always the same work, day after day it was necessary for my survival. So, first thing first, firewood.

*********

The immediate forecast predicts no further storms. So far, I’ve experienced sunny days for the past few weeks. Gradually the snow melted revealing clumps of emerald. Looking towards the path a short distance away, visualizing the pond, that sits about half a mile from the cabin which stays perpetually frozen, not even the constant blaze of the sun can thaw.

If the pond can be melted the surroundings will benefit greatly, me included, but until then the streams I’ve found have sustained me well enough over the years. The once crystalized landscape helps to support the stream's flow, only on the occasions a storm barrels in does it disrupt the beating veins of the forest. Until the next storm I’ll enjoy the constant sunshine on my skin, hoping somehow it reaches the hidden part of my being.

*********

A few months later, I'm jolted awake out of a deep sleep by pounding on the cabin door. I particularly don’t like unexpected visitors. This only happened once before but that memory deserves to stay in the deepest, darkest recess of my mind and has no place in my life now. However, that sense of déjà vu increases my heart rate and breathing. As I’m contemplating whether to answer the door or not, a voice calls out wholly different from the voice in my memory, this allows me to regain control. If I had continued to panic who knows what might have happened. On my approach to the door, I grab my rifle that sits at the foot of my bed before opening it a fraction.

On the other side, as I’d suspected, is a person I have never met before. They proceed to introduce themselves as having just moved into the area and would perhaps like my assistance in showing them around as I’m their nearest neighbor. The feeling of déjà vu persists, not wanting to experience the same outcome as before, I politely refuse. As I’m closing the door, they express their hope of seeing me again. I scoff, not if I can help it.

*********

Weeks went by, unfortunately to say I did encounter the visitor a few times, usually only permitting stilted conversations or brief greetings, though it didn’t seem to affect or discourage them at all. How they’ve managed to navigate the dense woods, to reach me, surrounding the cabin baffled me. So instead I decided avoiding and ignoring them as being the better option.

At one such meeting, if you can call it that, I hear a loud crash in the distance, scrambling to get my coat and shoes, I dash outside trying to pinpoint where the sound came from. Trying to calm my breathing after frantically leaving the cabin, I attempt to hold my breath to better hear in which direction I should go. After a couple of seconds, I hear a faint rhythmic, thunk, thunk, thunk originating in the direction of the pond. Starting a light jog, I soon arrive at the tree line which crowded up against the perimeter of the pond, forgetting how close the crops of trees had gotten. The effort it took to reach the pond feels like an obstacle course yet the visitor managed.

I find myself mesmerized by the unusual size and from previous experience how deceptively deep the pond is, the reflective surface blinding by the shining brilliance of the sun. Only after my eyes start to water do I blink to clear my vision of the developing dark spots. Remembering why I’m there, I scan the area, a few feet away from my position just in the tree line is the visitor. Sighing, I stayed only long enough to make certain of their intentions. It appears they are trying to clear the immediate area of the trees surrounding the pond, making access easier. This doesn’t surprise me, after all, it isn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last someone will try to gain access to the frozen pond.

Turning around I head back to the cabin, hoping for their failure.

*********

Some years ago, the pond was the thriving and beating heart of the forest, not only for its unusual characteristics, but it’s depth and soothing atmosphere. Once, it was encircled by reeds, rushes and flowering plants, combined with the loving rays of the sun, a mini oasis. The towering trees that inhabited the forest weren’t so tightly packed around the pond, making access easy and effortless. That access allowed anyone to venture there and do as they pleased.

At first, one after the other, they came in subtly, they cleared the foliage, took long swims, dived, pulled up treasures that were best left in place. Initially, I didn’t notice anything changed, but as time went on and visitors' increasing lack of finesse they barged in and left, leaving chaos in their wake. The trees eventually did not look as full, the vegetation around the pond slowly dwindled, the water no longer pristine. Only after an extended period between the last visitor and the newest arrival did I manage to revitalize the pond somewhat and it's immediate area.

My guard was up when the latest visitor made an appearance, but they seemed different from all the ones before. They helped me to maintain the area I had only just barely restored and bit by bit, I let my walls down, they appreciated my efforts and the trust I placed in them. Little did I know, things would take a turn for the worst. My visitor, did the unthinkable, invited their friends to join, to partake in something I fiercely guarded now, but permitted my visitor to enjoy even after the heavy damage that was previously done by others.

Unexpectedly, the weather conditions started to change, the temperature dropped, snow began to fall substantially weighing the trees down while ice crept across the pond until it was frozen solid, the first snowstorm came. After they discovered their entertainment was denied them, they all left. Where they went, I didn’t know, I didn’t care. But, the pond had more visitors after that, however they came with their pickaxes, shovels, saws, hammers, hacking away at the ice, the trees, the snow but to no avail. In response, over time the forest grew in thickness, enclosed the pond, created a barrier against all outside intruders, and the ice remained.

*********

A surprisingly short while later, after our last meeting, the visitor made substantial progress falling into my good graces, with an unanticipated side effect. I find my eyes constantly searching them out, my mind turning towards them and anticipating hearing their voice. To be honest, I can’t put my finger on when these changes took place, nor could I decide if I was happy about them either. To prove to myself that what was happening was a fluke I decide to drop in at the pond for a visit; knowing once I see the visitor, the sight of them will remind me of the firm resolve to stay away.

Approaching the pond, I notice a significant difference in its appearance. I don’t know where the visitor got the plants and shrubs but there they were, lush and green. The trees that were once clustered tightly were gone. Seeing the mass improvements stung my eyes but what took my breath away was the small amount of water gently lapping at the edge of the pond. In response, a glow began to pulse, resonating in my chest. I wanted to express my gratitude for the changes but discovered the visitor wasn't here. I waited a few hours to no avail. I went back repeatedly over the next few days with the same outcome.

Over time the glow in my chest diminished to a tiny flicker, then suddenly the winds came, grey covered the sky the temperature like ice, despite that, that tiny strip of melted ice at the pond’s shore lingered.

*********

I don’t go to the pond anymore for fear of facing the truth that the visitor was no longer here. As before, I stay close to the cabin and everything that brings me comfort. Nevertheless, my sanctuary was infiltrated yet again, only it was someone I had hoped to never see again. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, they croon and whisper trying to lull me into a false sense of security, asking to be granted entry. And when I refused them, they became a battering ram, slamming against the walls, trying to force their way inside, shattering windows and howling at the top of their lungs. Old fears begin to surface, I find the smallest corner, huddle into a ball covering my ears, whimpering; holding on to the fragile hope I had left.

It seemed their outburst of rage lasted a lifetime. Still cowering in fear, the feel of arms surrounding me, my past no longer trying to force their way in; even without looking I knew who it was, I turn to embrace my visitor in return and drew strength and warmth from their presence. The small spark in my chest burst to encompass my entire being, knowing I would never let go of this patient, loving and healing person. Helping me up from a crouched position, taking my hand to lead me, we take our time walking, luxuriating in one another. Being lost in their company, I wasn't aware of being led to the pond. To my delight, the pond was teeming with life I thought long dead, my visitor did what I wasn’t sure was possible, thawing the frozen heart of the forest.